The Discovery of Ava
by LilyAyres
Summary: A story inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Blinking, trying to focus in on the voice, I manage to see a person standing in the room. "Where am I?" I mutter, more to myself than the man with the deep voice which sparks some memory I just can't seem to grasp hold of at the moment.

"You're safe, in my home." He opens a curtain letting in far too much light. "You came to my club last night looking for me."

"Oh." It feels like a demented miner is wielding a pick axe inside my skull. Groggily, I manage to sit up against the headboard. Looking down I realize I'm not wearing the dress I had on last night. "Did you?"

The man, it has to be Roy Blackwood, moves back towards the door. "Your dress is being cleaned." He points to the chair. "There are fresh clothes for you. Take your time getting up. When you're ready join me. I'll be in the kitchen." With that he leaves and closes the door behind him.

Inelegantly, I roll out of bed. On the bedside table sits a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. I gulp down two pills and drain the glass, feeling slightly nauseous as the liquid hits my stomach. Hoping the water settles I take a moment to look around. Everything in the room is orderly, refined and pretty without being feminine, as is the formal garden I can see just outside the French doors. I stumble into the bathroom which is equally large and filled with morning light from the skylight.

"Ava you need a shower." I tell my reflection and walk to the stall door, marveling at the multiple shower heads, and getting confused as to how exactly I'm to operate them. Finally, after randomly hitting buttons, the water starts to spray and I see that I can input the exact temperature I want. Far more sophisticated than what I have at home. I step into the center feeling the multiple bursts of hot water wash over my body and it hits me. I'm in a stranger's home with a man I don't know and I'm in – well I was in - my underwear.

Aunt Jean trusted him, isn't that good enough for you? My subconscious scolds.

"Fine." I grab a bottle of shampoo that smells of lavender and wash my hair. Quickly and efficiently, I rinse and reluctantly step out of the luxurious shower, wrapping a towel around my thick hair. Taking another towel off the rack I wrap it around me and trudge back into the bedroom to the bag Roy indicated. Inside are a pair of jeans, a red shirt, socks, lace underwear and bra – did he buy these? – and sneakers. Everything is in my size. How did he know?

I dress and go back to the bathroom and stare at the hair dryer. My hair is thick and I wouldn't have washed it, but it smelled of cigarette smoke. Maybe I could just put it up? Where is my purse? Looking around the room and the bedroom, I do not see it. I know I had some hairbands in it. Did I leave it at the club? With every minute more memories of last night come back to me. Mortified would not be a strong enough word to express how I'm feeling.

Deciding towel drying is the best option; I get as much of the moisture out of my hair as possible and run my fingers through the curls. Beside the sink are a toothbrush, still in the package, toothpaste, and mouthwash. After a good scrubbing and rinse, I feel as presentable as I'll ever be given the circumstances.

I walk out of the safe cocoon of the bedroom and into a wide hallway, ahead I see what looks like a living room and as I get closer I squint at the light flooding in from the floor to ceiling windows which make up the back wall. Like the bedroom everything is pretty and neat but lacks any feeling of hominess. The furnishings ooze expensive, but it has the look of a model home, like one person picked everything out at the same time.

There are voices to my left and I follow them until I reach what I assume is the kitchen. My kitchen at home is more like a hallway. This is huge. One side is the cooking area with industrial sized appliances and then an open area with a large table and beyond that a seating area. Outside is a patio and pool, the water glistening in the sunlight causes my head to throb again.

"Miss Carlisle," Roy is standing in from of the windows. "How are you feeling?"

Not able to return his gaze because of his proximity to the blinding morning light, I close my eyes for a moment and refocus them on the floor. "Please call me Ava." I hear movement and look up to see that he's moved further into the room. I wasn't expecting him to be handsome. He has on gray slacks and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "I'm not sure what happened last night."

He motions towards the kitchen area. "Mrs. Green will prepare whatever you'd like for breakfast."

"I'm fine; really, I don't mean to put you out."

Roy's body language speaks volumes as he walks towards me and stops at the boundary of what I consider my personal space. His eyes are an unusual light gray color. I've never seen anyone with eyes like his before. They look at me from head to toe and back again until they come to rest on my face. "You are far too skinny. Your hair is wet." He rakes his hands through his hair. "Eat something and then we'll talk."

Maybe I have the wrong person. Aunt Jean spoke about him as someone she could trust, someone I should go to if I ever needed anything. This man is harsh, cold and intense, just on the cusp of being scary. "You are Roy Blackwood."

"I am." He walks to the table and pulls out a chair. "Mrs. Green, prepare Miss Carlisle an omelet."

"Yes sir," Mrs. Green answers.

"Sit Miss Carlisle," Roy orders.

"Okay, but please call me Ava."

I watch as he takes a seat at the head of the table and immediately opens a folder and flips through the pages. Aunt Jean called him controlled. That was like calling the ocean a large kiddie pool. I look over at Mrs. Green. "Can I help?" I ask.

"No Miss, would you like tea or coffee?" Mrs. Green flips the omelet and looks back at me, waiting for my answer.

"Coffee, if it isn't too much trouble."

She smiles warmly and pours a generous mugful. "Milk, cream, sugar?"

"Do you have brown sugar?"

Roy looks over the top of the folder at me, and then back down to this reading.

"Light or Dark?" Mrs. Green asks.

I get the feeling I can ask for anything and Mrs. Green would smile and produce it. "Light, please." She slides the omelet on a plate and carries the mug in her other hand, depositing both in front of me. Amazed that I'm hungry I immediately dive into the eggs. "This is wonderful."

"Thank you." Mrs. Green gives me a slight nod and looks to Mr. Blackwood. "Would you like anything?"

I look up from my food to watch this exchange. Aunt Jean told me you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their employees. He doesn't exactly smile at her, but his expression is less cold.

"No, thank you. That will be all for now."

"Yes sir," she smiles, turns and leaves.

I don't want her to leave. I'm not sure I want to be alone with Mr. Roy Blackwood. It sours my stomach again and after only a few bites my stomach rebels against the eggs, so I sit back to sip on my coffee.

"You haven't finished all your food." He speaks without looking at me, his attention still on the contents of the folder.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Eat."

"Really I've had enough." I put my mug down.

His glacial gray eyes sear me with their intensity. "Miss Carlisle, I take my responsibilities seriously. You are in my care. You are my responsibility. I will not have you underfed."

"I am your guest. I am not under your care, as I assume you are not a doctor, so I have had enough, thank you." I feel my face blush crimson, but I'm proud my voice doesn't shake.

He pushes his chair back from the table and involuntarily I jump. For a moment, I see a slight uptick of his lip. Was that a smile? "You should be under my care. If you were, than last night would have never happened. I promise you it won't happen again, or I should say if it does happen again then you won't be able to sit for a week."

What? Uh, I know I'm a little foggy, but this conversation has just taken a very strange turn.

"Now, since you refuse to eat anymore, and I can do nothing about that at this time, let us discuss last night."

If a harsh light were suddenly pointed my way I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe he interrogates people in his spare time. I take a deep breath. "You knew my Aunt Jean and –"

"Yes, yes, I know all that." He snaps impatiently. "You are Ava Carlisle. Jean O'Connor was your aunt." He dips his head slightly. "I am sorry for your loss. Ms. O'Connor deserved better than to die of cancer."

It was still fresh and painful. How Aunt Jean had been diagnosed with breast cancer at age 40 and the roller coaster ride that followed. It had been caught early, but was aggressive and after treatment and chemo she'd died six weeks ago.

"What I'd like to know is how you gained entry into my club. You're lucky my man noticed you were inebriated and brought you up to the office. If you hadn't had my card in your hand, I wouldn't have known who you were."

Is that why he was being so rude, he thought I was drunk. "No, I don't drink. I went to the bar and ordered a Coke. Your bartender thought that was funny. I was going to go look for you after I drank it, but then everything went hazy on me."

Roy's palm slaps the table and causes me to jolt back in my seat. "How did you get past the gatekeepers, Miss Carlisle? My club is exclusive to members." He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. "I won't even discuss that you're under twenty-one." He gives me a death glare. "Did you drive that deathtrap all the way from Luray?" He reaches down and pulls out a cell phone. "Do you realize what could have happened to you?"

Too stunned to speak, I sit there with my mouth open. I think he is genuinely concerned for me, but his bedside manner is seriously lacking in warmth. Like a frightened rabbit, I sit very still and watch as he speaks on the phone.

"Luther, review the security tapes from last night, specifically the bar area when Miss Carlisle was there. We're looking for someone spiking drinks. Report back to me." Roy ends the call without saying goodbye and goes to the kitchen bar. "Your purse, check to make sure everything is in order." He places it next to me and goes back to his seat at the head of the table.

I rummage through it, find a hair bob and twist my wet hair up and off my neck. My wallet is here. I see my keys. Yes, everything looks to be in place.

"Which gatekeeper let you in?" He asks running his finger along his lip.

I'm caught staring at his finger moving over his lip. I expected him to be older, around my Aunt Jean's age, but Roy looks like he's in his late twenties or early thirties. Realizing he's said something, I mumble. "What did you say?"

He smiles. "I asked which gatekeeper allowed you entry into my club."

Roy's word choice brings an image to mind of a fortress with guards and brawny men who use pulleys to lift a drawbridge. "Uh, hmm, the tall one with the scar on the side of his face." I indicate the spot on my own. "He's not in any trouble is he?"

Roy's eyebrow rises. "You are not a member and you're an underage girl. I would say that qualifies as trouble."

"I'm not a girl." Why is he treating me like a child? "I'm twenty-one in two days. He looked at my ID. I thought the age was eighteen to get in."

He goes back to the phone. "Luther, it was Arnold who allowed," Roy levels a cold gaze upon me. "Miss Carlisle inside." Again he snaps the phone shut without saying goodbye and pushes a business card toward me. "You had this in your hand, which is the reason you are here now."

"Aunt Jean gave it to me; she said to contact you if I needed help." It's still hard to talk about her. "I don't remember how I got here."

"You passed out at the bar. I thought you were drunk, but it seems something was slipped in your drink. Do you remember who was next to you at the bar?"

"No," I shake my head. "It's all fuzzy. I've never been to a club before. I didn't know what to expect, and well, I didn't really fit in very well." I peek up to see him looking at me with an expression I can't read; at least it isn't his angry face. "I remember asking the bartender if you were there, and that I needed to speak with you, but then it gets hazy."

He taps the business card with his finger. "You should have called me. I would have come to you. It was very dangerous what you did last night. You might have awakened in someone else's bed." He looks at my mouth. I realize I'm biting my lip and release it. "All manner of things could have been done to you."

The realization of what he's implying hits me, I could have been raped or worse.

"Now," he leans back in his chair. "Why did you drive all the way from Luray to see me?"

Where to start? "Right before Aunt Jean died; she made me promise to contact you if I needed anything. She said you were someone she trusted with her life and mine." Roy nods. "It started three weeks ago. There was a bouquet of gardenias with a red ribbon placed on top of her tombstone. I went back the next day and found that the old bouquet was replaced with a new bunch, and the day after, and the day after that. I asked the groundkeeper if he knew who was putting them there. He didn't. At first I let it go, but then after a while it started to bug me. I thought it strange given neither of us have any family." Coffee, I need another sip of coffee and hold the warm cup between my hands for comfort. "The next week I found a bouquet of gardenias in my mailbox."

"At your home?"

I nod. "That really scared me, so I went to the police chief. He looked into it but didn't see any wrong doing. He thought I had an admirer and told me not to worry about it."

"Typical." Roy gets up and starts to pace. "Go on."

"Then for a few days I found them on my porch. Last night, when I got home from work, I found them on my bed."

He stops pacing, his arms tense and he's opening and closing his hands into fists. "Were your doors locked?"

"Yes, I'm super careful about that now that I live alone. I don't know how they got in." The memory if it, the fear, seeps back into my system. "I didn't know what to do. I was afraid the police wouldn't do anything, so I ran out of the house and got in my car and drove straight here." The tears come now, streaming down my face. Ashamed I keep my eyes down. "I'm sorry, I should have called, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Here." A box of Kleenex is placed on the table and he goes back to pacing as I blow my nose. "Could this be an ex-boyfriend?"

Between blows I mumble. "Never had a boyfriend."

"Never Miss Carlisle, I find that hard to believe." He has his hands on the table leaning towards me, his grey eyes twinkling. All I can manage is to shake my head. "Then what about admirers?"

"No, boys don't like me." I should really think before I speak.

For the first time he smiles; his teeth are perfect, of course. "Boys may not like you but men do." He blinks, shoves off the table, rocks back on his heels and appraises me. "You will stay here while I look into this for you."

I hadn't expected that. "Thank you, that's very kind of you, but I have to go back home. I'm scheduled to work tomorrow night."

Roy snatches the folder off the table and flips through the pages. "You work at Blue Ridge Restaurant. I think they can do without you for a few days, Miss Carlisle."

I stand too quickly and feel slightly woozy. "Stop calling me that. My name is Ava."

"I don't call my clients by their first name."

It feels like the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. "I'm sorry." I need to leave. "You must be very busy and I didn't mean to waste your time. I thought since my Aunt was…" I don't really know what Aunt Jean was to Mr. Blackwood. "I'll pay you for these clothes."

"No, it is I who should apologize. Please sit. When I said client, I didn't mean that I expect you to pay for this. I owe your aunt a great deal and meant what I said about responsibilities."

"I just thought you could check around, I didn't mean for this to take a lot of your time."

"And I will, but until we find the person who is leaving you these gifts, you shouldn't be alone in your home. You do understand that."

No, frankly I hadn't thought through it that far. "The restaurant was really good to me while Aunt Jean was sick. I can't just turn my back on them now." Plus I need the money.

"Loyalty is a rare quality."

Roy is back on his phone, this time talking to a Miss White. Another crayon color name? Is there a Miss Nude somewhere? He goes over to the window and I can't hear exactly what he's saying, but I watch how his shoulders move beneath the shirt. Why hadn't Aunt Jean mentioned him to me earlier?

"It's all taken care of. One of the club waitresses has relatives in Sperryville, she'll take your shifts until this is resolved."

"I don't know if that will be okay with my manager."

"It's arranged. Call her if you like."

How could anyone be this efficient? "Do you mind if I use your phone?" His face darkens.

"You don't have a cell phone?"

"No," I shrug. "I can't afford it." Why do I feel the need to explain?

"You drove in the middle of the night, almost one hundred miles, without a cell phone?"

Was he hard of hearing? "I have a phone card. It won't cost you anything."

"Unbelievable." Roy rakes his hand through his hair. "Here," he shoves his cell towards me. "Call your manager if it makes you feel better."

Luckily I know Cathy's number from memory. She's gracious, as always, and assures me that she has spoken with Miss White and arrangements have been made.

Instead of handing him the phone, I place it on the table. "How did you know my Aunt Jean?" My aunt was quiet, retrospective, and the kindest person I ever met. What could she have in common with Mr. Handsome Control Freak?

"I need you to sign something before we continue with this conversation."

"Sign what?"

"A contract." Roy pulls a piece of paper from the folder and places in on the table. "It states that I have access to your personal information…" he rolls his hand. "Etc."

"This is needed?"

Roy sighs. "Yes. It states that my company is providing you investigative and protective services."

"What do you do, exactly?"

"Miss Carlisle, your aunt trusted me."

"Will you stop calling me Miss Carlisle if I sign this?" His smile is genuine; I can tell by the way his eyes sparkle. He looks years younger this way. "I'll need a pen."

"You shouldn't sign this without reading it."

"Can't I trust you?"

Roy shakes his head and smiles that charming smile. I feel like I'd do almost anything to see him smile like this again. He goes behind the kitchen island and returns with a pen.

I sign on the line above my name. "When did you create this file on me?" His smile disappears and he doesn't answer my question. "How did you meet my aunt?"

"It's more comfortable in here." He walks to the seating area that looks out at the pool and sits in a chair.

I'm blinking trying to track him in the bright sunlight coming in through the windows. He lifts a remote off the table and the blinds close. I feel my shoulders lower a notch as I relax.

"She was a gifted psychiatrist who assisted me in many different areas."

"Did you date her?" I sit on the sofa.

"No."

"It was a professional relationship?"

"Yes, it started out that way, but I'd like to think we became friends."

"I thought you were a club owner?"

"I have various clubs along the east coast catering to a specific clientele, but my main business is in security and private military."

Too many questions flash through my mind to ask just one. "Private military, you mean mercenaries."

"Well that is a term used. My company hires ex-military with specific skill sets. We only contract with the US Government."

That explains his cold, unemotional demeanor. "Were you in the military?"

"Yes."

"Did you see Aunt Jean professionally, as a patient?"

"No, I used her as a consultant, but never for my own personal use."

"And your club, what type of place is it?" I remembered walking into a dark cavernous space last night.

"The type of place you shouldn't frequent again."

"That's not an answer."

Roy smiles, but says no more on the subject.

"May I see the file you have on me?"

I've caught him off guard, and I can tell he isn't too pleased about it. Living with a shrink most of my life makes me more perceptive than most. He crosses one leg over the other and runs his fingers down an imaginary crease line. Roy is deciding what he wants to do, and I continue to look him in the eyes waiting.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Miss Carlisle." I raise my eyebrow at him. "Ava."

I like how my name sounds from his lips. Roy elongates the vowels and it brings a flush to my cheeks. "I can't imagine you ever being at a disadvantage. I know my past, I just want to make sure what you have is accurate."

Roy inhales deeply and looks up at the ceiling. "The file is on the table. Read it if you wish."

I have trust issues. That's what happens when your father abandons you and your mother commits suicide when you're nine. If Aunt Jean hadn't moved her practice and adopted me, I'd have been sent to foster care. As I walk over to retrieve the file Roy's cell goes off again. It must be awful to be tied to that thing. I hate talking on the phone. I wait to read what's inside until I'm back on the sofa with my legs tucked underneath me.

The information contained in the file is extensive. He has copies of my birth certificate, the death certificate for my mother, financial records, even the current balance of my meager checking account. "How did you get all this?"

"I have resources." He answers quickly and goes back to his phone conversation.

The folder is the type law offices use, a pressboard with pongs attached to the dividers. I flip to the last section and catch Roy's movement with my peripheral vision. He's ended the call and is watching me. I look down and see my father's name on a document, Kirk Carlisle, and a current address. Oh, this was information I didn't have. I close the folder and place it next to me on the sofa. All these years I assumed he was dead, that he hadn't really left us, but instead been involved in some sort of foul play.

"He's a convicted felon." Roy says like he's talking about the weather. "That's where he disappeared to all those years ago."

Oh, it just gets worse. My mother killed herself and my father is a felon, what a wonderful family pedigree.

"What did he do?"

"He was involved in a robbery." He says it bluntly.

Of course, my father is a thief. I feel sick.

"Did my aunt ask you to keep tabs on me?" The file is too thick to be something recently put together.

His eyebrow lifts. "Yes, when she was first diagnosed with cancer. I think she knew it was going to beat her, she wanted me to know about you, just in case."

"Could he," I can't bring myself to call him father, "be doing this?"

Roy shakes his head. "No, when your aunt took custody of you she had me check his whereabouts periodically. He's a lonely, bitter man but he's stayed out of trouble and hasn't traveled out of state."

Well that's something. "Do you think one of her patients is doing this?"

"You should be in college. You're a bright young woman."

Nice try to change the subject. "You know why I'm not in college." I say it with more bitterness than I feel. Every penny was spent on Aunt Jean's medical bills, and I had to care for her, which I don't regret. I'd do it again, if need be. "I'll take your conversation diversion as your agreement that a former patient could be doing this."

His lip quirks up a fraction. "We'll have to see. Ms. O'Connor worked as a consultant for my company. I have those records stored with human resources. Do you know what she did with all her old patient files from when she had her practice?"

I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "I'm pretty sure the doctor who bought her practice took over her patient files."

"I was afraid of that."

"But I remember she had a box of files in her closet."

He nods. "I took the liberty of having your car driven back and put in the driveway to make it look like you're at home."

Oh, Mr. Blackwood, I'm sure you take all sorts of liberties.

Roy stands and picks up the file. "Are you done with this?"

"For now," I smile sweetly.

He moves to the kitchen and I have to turn around to watch him. "I was told your car has been poorly maintained. The tires are bald, your oil needs changing, no windshield wiper fluid, and the engine light is lit."

"Is this a dressing down?"

His eyes become hooded and suddenly I realize he's taking my question in a different light. What is it about him that is off putting and exciting all at the same time?

"Once we find the miscreant that is stalking you that deathtrap of yours is going to the junk heap where it belongs."

I do admire a man who can use miscreant in a sentence and make it sound menacing. "I need a car. Luray doesn't have public transportation, and as I'm sure you are aware, I don't have the resources to buy anything."

He pulls a yogurt out of the fridge. "Would you like one?" he asks, and I shake my head, no. He pulls the top off and scoops out a spoonful. "Ava," he smiles. "A lovely name for a beautiful woman. It's been a long time since I addressed a woman by her first name."

I feel that he's telling me something intimate, but not sure why. "Are you married?" I assumed he wasn't, but you know what they say about people who assume.

"No." He makes a throaty noise.

"Girlfriend?" Now that the subject has been broached I'm curious as a cat.

He takes his time with the last spoonful of yogurt and puts the container and spoon in the sink. I guess Mrs. Green will take care of it. "I don't do the girlfriend routine."

He says the statement like I should know what that means. Oh, it dawns on me that he must be gay. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just assumed you liked women. I'm sure they like you. I mean you're so handsome, but then I guess men like that too." I'm babbling and I slap my hand over my mouth to stop.

He cocks his head to the side. I'm not sure if he's offended or amused. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Of course." I realize he's toying with me. "You know that already."

"It's nice to hear that you think so. I am not gay. I have sex with women, but I do not date. I find emotional attachments unnecessary and a waste of my time."

"I don't understand. Are you saying you have sex with prostitutes?" I'm very proud of myself for not looking away. Sex is not a topic I'm comfortable talking about.

"Perhaps we should talk about this another time." Roy says with finality. "How are you feeling?"

It takes me a moment to switch gears from his sex life to how I'm feeling. "Fine, my head hurts, but not as bad as when I woke up."

"I've asked my doctor to stop by and check on you; just to be sure there aren't any lasting side effects from the drug."

I hate doctors. "No, really, I'm fine. Your doctor makes house calls?"

"He does. I have some things to take care of this afternoon. My house is yours. Mrs. Green lives on the property. If you need anything just hit the intercom button." He points to a white box on the wall next to the light switch and walks towards the doorway, stops, and I think he's going to say something, but then he continues on down the hall.

"Goodbye Mr. Blackwood," I whisper.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Roy and I are tucked into a beautiful Volvo sedan that has that just purchased new car smell. Yesterday I walked around his property in Langley, Virginia. Mrs. Green told me that it's a historical neighborhood with quite a few famous residents. She said his house sits in the middle of five acres, half of which are wooded. It's hard to believe that DC is just a few miles down Rock Creek Parkway and McLean is less than that in the other direction.

I'm wearing the dress I wore the night before when I went to his club, C&C, which I found out yesterday means Cuff & Collar. Roy said it was okay to use his computer, but I felt strange finding out that what I thought was a dance club was some sort of sex club. At least I think that's what it is. I was looking through the website when Mrs. Green came in wanting to know what I'd like for lunch. After that I didn't have a chance to research anymore.

"In the glove box is a pad of paper and a pen. I want you to write down everyone you know."

Roy hasn't spoken since we left thirty minutes ago. Driving through McLean was hectic and navigating onto Route 66 took some time, so I really didn't think anything of it.

"Everyone?" I ask.

"Yes," he quickly looks at me and then back at the road. He's all business.

I write work and put everyone I can think of underneath the heading, then school, the list is less, and then the various other people I know, which isn't many. I feel slightly depressed.

"Is that it?" he asks.

"I'm not a people person." My tone is defensive.

"Did you find what you were looking for yesterday?"

I try to disappear into the soft leather upholstery, but manage to utter, "You said I could use your computer."

"I did."

"I wanted to read about your company." His eyebrow lifts. "You have a domestic violence foundation for abused women."

"Ava, just ask me what you want to know."

His tone is less harsh, it emboldens me. "You said something yesterday about spanking me." I swallow and take a deep breath. "Do you want to spank me?" I was never spanked as a child or punished in any physical way. But the way he said it sent shivers down my spine, the good kind, and I haven't been able to get the thought out of my mind.

Roy leans his head back and blows out a long breath. "You are frank, I'll give you that."

I wait for him to say more while looking straight ahead afraid to see his expression.

"I can almost hear your brain churning away over there." We pass the Manassas exit and there are fewer cars on the road. He must have put the cruise control on because I can see his knee resting against the console now. "What I said was you wouldn't be able to sit for a week. I'm a controlled man who needs to control others."

I shift in my seat.

"The thought of you driving into the city alone, going someplace you've never been, a place that you aren't legally allowed to enter, to meet a man you don't know, causes me great distress. Can you understand that?"

"No," I answer honestly. "I'm not a child. It turned out fine."

"You're too naive to know how close you came to …"

I look over to see his hands wrapped around the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.

"When you said you don't date." I'm gnawing on my lip unsure how to continue. "Is it because you like to hurt women? Is that why you have a foundation?" My voice sounds harsh and judgmental and I'm too embarrassed to look at him and instead stare out the car window.

"We need lunch. I know a place where we can eat and talk. I can't have you thinking I beat women."

I wince at his tone. I don't argue though I have no interest in eating right now.

"Good afternoon Mr. Blackwood." The hostess greets us and takes us to a table away from the other customers. "The usual?"

"No." Roy pulls the chair out for me. "We'll need menus."

"Right away." She rushes off, and comes back with two menus, puts them on the table and disappears.

"Pick out what you'd like and then we can talk."

I wish I hadn't brought this up now that I'm sitting across the table from him. I avoid his eyes by pretending to read the menu. The hostess returns looking too eager and I realize she is drinking Roy in. What would she think if she knew he wanted to tie her up? My mind is drifting and I realize too late that they're both looking at me waiting for my order.

"I'll have a cup of onion soup." I smile, thankful my voice isn't shaky.

Roy levels his gaze at me. "That's not enough."

The hostess shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"That's all I want."

"She'll have the turkey club served with the soup."

I sigh, thinking how high-handed he is, and then giggle nervously when I realize the absurdity of my word choice. Both of them are looking at me when I look up.

"I'll have a steak and cheese with fries, a Sam Adams, and a coke. Bring the drinks with the food." Roy clips off quickly.

The hostess is still looking at him. He has that effect on women. Roy gives her a hard stare and she makes a small squeak. "Yes sir, I understand."

When the hostess has disappeared, he turns his gaze on me. "Look at me."

"Is that an order," I snap, still stinging from the way he overrode my food order.

"Ava, please."

It's hard to resist when he says my name and please in the same breath. I look up and he's still the Roy I know, but there's a look of vulnerability in his eyes that I didn't expect to see. "Did my aunt know about this?" I'm not sure what to call it.

"Your aunt knew my complexities. I gave that card to her years ago. I never thought she'd give it to you. I had no idea you'd show up at C&C."

"You don't need to explain; really it's none of my business." Suddenly I feel petty and intrusive.

"Ava," he places his hand palm side up on the table.

Without thinking I place mine in his and feel an electric jolt run through my arm.

"Ask me what you want to know, please, I can't have you thinking I beat women."

"What happens at the club?" I feel that's a good way to ease into this.

"I use it as a meeting place, a front, for information exchanges. I own three such clubs from New York to Florida. Because it is members only, I can meet with clients discreetly."

"So you don't participate in what goes on there?"

"No, _no_. You haven't known me long, but even you must realize I'm a very private man. It was a major breach in my security that you were even allowed inside." His eyes flash for a moment and he squeezes my hand. "If you'd seen anything, I would never forgive myself."

"It's fine. I don't really remember it other than people didn't seem happy."

"I'm sure they weren't happy. You caused quite a stir."

"Me, what do you mean?"

"Firstly, you have no idea how lovely you are. You would have drawn attention at any club." His eyes travel down to my lips for a moment. "You were in the lounge area where members can relax before or after a session. That dress you have on has a cut out of white on you left shoulder. In my clubs there are certain dress codes that signify whether someone is a dom or a sub. Usually members wear a white handkerchief tied around there neck with the ends pointed in one direction or the other when they are receptive to new partners. White on the left is a dom. White on the right is a sub."

I didn't get a chance to research much about the terms. "What does that mean?"

Roy squeezes my hand and lets it go to sit back in his chair. "In simplistic terms, a dominant is someone who exerts control."

"So that's what you are." Mr. Control Freak.

"Yes. A submission likes to be controlled."

"Oh, the bartender laughed at me, and I wondered why. It's because I was signaling I was a dom, but clearly I wasn't. I remember he gave me a really strange look when I asked for you."

"Yes, he's received a very large bonus for his diligence in identifying you to me. He knew you had no idea what was going on."

"And then I passed out. Did you find the person who drugged me?"

"He has been dealt with."

Hmm, I'm not sure if I want to know how. My mind keeps replaying that he thinks I'm lovely. I think you're lovely too Mr. Blackwood. "If you own these clubs then don't people assume you participate?"

"People can assume whatever they like."

"But doesn't this hurt your business? I mean people knowing you own," I lean in and mouth more than whisper, "sex clubs."

The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. "It is not a sex club, and it is completely legal. These clubs allow me to control who is inside, therefore at all times," he dips his head to me, "except for the other night, I can control the environment."

Yes, Mr. Control Freak would use the word control twice in one sentence. "But," I'm struggled here, so out of my depth that I feel like I'm drowning.

"I can see this is a hard concept for you, but try and see this from an intelligence perspective. Very few people would go to such a club and for those that do, my club is exclusive, members only, and I decide who has membership. I run background checks on all my employees and members, so if I need to have a clandestine meeting with someone it can be handled very efficiently and safety for all parties."

Clandestine meetings, really? "But you enjoy that stuff, right?" His brow furrows. "What made you like this?" I shake my head. "It isn't normal."

The hostess and a waitress are back and place the dishes in front of us; both of them are gawking at Roy. I feel like chum.

"Don't interrupt us unless I signal that I'm ready for the check."

Their faces reflect hurt at his rudeness. Being a server, I feel the need to soften his words. "Thank you, this smells delicious." I smile at them and receive polite nods before they leave.

"You shouldn't treat them that way. I think the hostess has a crush on you."

His response is a shrug.

After I've eaten a wedge of my club sandwich and a good portion of the onion soup, I sit back and sip my Coke through a straw.

"The women you see, are they subs?"

He leans back in his chair and runs his eyes over me. "Why so curious about something you feel is wrong?"

He has me there. "I'm interested." His eyebrow lifts. "No, not that way, I just want to understand."

Roy dips a fry in ketchup and pops it into his mouth. "Do you like ice cream?"

Not sure what this has to do with anything I nod.

"What about aspic? Do you like that?

I cringe and shake my head.

"Do you feel that people who like aspic are wrong or deviant?"

"No," I blurt out too fast. "Oh, I see what you're saying now." Suddenly, something occurs to me that I hadn't thought before. "Was my aunt…"

Roy smiles, "No. From what I know she had no interest."

"The room I slept in is that for the women?" I remember how the shampoo, toothbrush and other items were new.

"No Ava, I never have women in my home, except for Mrs. Green, and she is my employee. I do not have sex with my employees."

The mental picture of Mrs. Green naked makes me smile. She is a very attractive woman, but well past fifty and her demeanor is grandmotherly. "Where then?"

Roy pushes his plate away; he is a member of the clean plate club. I see him look at mine which still has half the sandwich, but he doesn't say anything. "I have an apartment in the city I use."

"Do you have a partner now?"

He wipes his lips with a napkin and places it next to the plate. I love looking at his lips. "No." Maybe he sees my confused expression, or maybe he's learning to anticipate what I'll ask. "These women aren't prostitutes. They lead normal healthy lives. I don't beat them. Everything we do is about pleasure."

I smirk.

"As with anything there are different levels. I do nothing that is harmful to them. I do nothing that we don't agree on beforehand. We engage in consensual sex, and either of us can terminate the contract at any time."

While I don't see the whole picture, I am starting to understand that people need different things. "You aren't extreme then? I saw some pictures that were awful."

"No, nor do my clubs tolerate such behavior. I looked at your search history. I am dominant, but I don't need nor want to put a woman in a cage, or some of the other things you saw. I'm not a sadist."

Inwardly I am relieved and a giant weight feels like it has slipped off my shoulders. "Have you always been this way?"

"I have."

"How did you know?"

"It was innate, my need to control the woman's position, to … this isn't the place to talk about this. Now that you delved into my personal world, Ava. I want to know about you."

His voice drops and he holds my eyes in such a way that I can't look away. My heart rate increases, breathing is no longer automatic, but is now something I need to regulate before I hyperventilate.

"Your pupils are dilated."

Oh that voice is doing something to me and I cross my legs needing to shield my most sensitive parts from him. I shift in my seat. I'm three parts excited by this conversation and one part terrified. I need a moment and I pick at the cheese left behind from my onion soup. I pop a strand into my mouth, liking the gooey texture. Roy moves to the chair next to me and reaches out with his thumb, raking it across my lower lip capturing a strand of cheese that has escaped. He pushes the cheese and his thumb into my mouth and leans in and whispers in my ear.

"Suck," he whispers.

I shiver with the sensation and do as I'm told.

"You have luscious lips and that sweet little tongue of yours." He kisses my earlobe. "Makes it hard for me to concentrate."

I'm shuddering inside with feelings I've never felt before. He is now behind my chair. Are we leaving? I'm not sure I can stand, but I do. He's looking for the hostess, who must have been watching, because she's instantly standing there giving me a mean look and then smiling up at Roy.

"Here." He hands her a hundred dollar bill. "The rest is yours."

"Thank you, Mr. Blackwood. Please come again."

I'm giggling again at her choice of words. Really I have to get a grip on myself. Roy takes my hand and leads me out of the restaurant. He opens the car door and waits while I slip down onto the leather seats. I love the sound the door makes when it closes, a soft thud, and then he's in the driver's seat and his body is turned to look at me.

"You do something to me." His eyes are bright. "I don't know whether to fuck you right here or hand you over to Luther to guard."

All I can do is look at him and bite my lip. He groans.

"Those lips will be the death of me." He turns his head to the side. "When were you kissed last?"

I shrug.

He grins devilishly at me. "You must remember his name?" He grins at me. "Was it a she?"

"No!" Shaking my head. "That's none of your business." I'm too embarrassed to tell him that it was Billy, and I was in the fifth grade when it happened. I never thought much about my sexual inexperience, but sitting next to Mr. Sex Machine is making me feel woefully inadequate.

Roy's expression hardens. He's serious Roy now and leans back in his seat. "Very well, we all have our secrets, Miss Carlisle."

"Yes we do," my voice sounds sullen, "Mr. Blackwood."

He's no longer playful. I'm not sure how I know exactly, but I do. He opens the console between and us and hands me a cell phone. "This is yours. All my numbers are programmed in the phone along with Mrs. Green and Luther. I got you a basic model until you get used to it, then we can upgrade you."

I take the device, and before I can hand it back, he is driving. "I can't accept this."

"Why?" He deftly maneuvers through the lights and takes the ramp to get back on the highway.

"Because I'm not your sub." My thought has slipped out; I meant to say something more eloquent.

"I am painfully away of that." The steering wheel is in his death grip again. "Just take the damn phone Ava. Do it for me. I worry about you wondering around."

"You make me sound like a lost puppy." I'm pouting and biting my lip just to spite him.

He doesn't say anymore and turns on the stereo. I put the phone in my purse and let my mind drift with the beautiful music. I really should get a car like this one day.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

We ride the rest of the way in silence, enveloped inside the luxurious comfort of his car. I don't drive far to work, but the journey would be nicer in something like this. Roy is right, my car is old and unattractive, but it gets me where I'm going and I don't have to make monthly payments, plus my insurance and taxes are minimal. Still, I feel just a little envy that my life hasn't had more comfort.

As he activates the turn signal to drive down my street, I'm aware of how shabby the houses look, and wonder what he's thinking. Does he feel pity for me? Because my aunt was concerned about my mental stability after my mother's suicide she left her practice in DC and moved into my mother's home to be with me. She tried to keep some of her patients by going in to the city once a week, but it hadn't worked and eventually she ended up doing consultant work.

My home is at the end of the cul-de-sac, a small one story home built in the fifties. Mrs. Chavez, my next door neighbor, is a family friend. There are two other houses on my street, but they are both rented out and the occupants aren't home much.

A large black SUV with tinted windows is parked directly in front of my home and a tall muscular man exits and walks behind Roy's car as he pulls into the driveway. This must be Luther. We exit and I'm walking around to go up the path to the front door when Roy grabs my hand.

"Hang on, until I talk with Luther."

I lean against the Volvo as the two men walk to my front porch. From the way Luther keeps looking in my direction, I gather I'm the topic of their discussion. He isn't exactly what I expected, though he obviously works out, he's bald and looks in his late forties. Roy's face turns towards me, my stomach drops, oh no, he looks angry. It can't be anything I've done. He's raking his hands through his hair, which he seems to do a lot around me.

"I see." I hear Roy say to Luther, and then he's walking towards me so I meet him halfway on the walk. "Your stalker was in your home last night and he did some damage."

My heart sinks. "You said he." Why I don't ask about the damage first, I have no idea.

"Yes, we're both fairly certain this is a male, based on his actions and the damage." He says that word again, damage.

"What did he do?" I ask, not sure I want to know.

"Do you have a spare key hidden?"

I'm a half a second away from telling him, 'I wouldn't be that stupid', when I realize I am that stupid. Sheepishly I look down at the grass. "Yes, I forgot about it, I haven't used it in years." I turn towards the tree and hoping to avoid the angry / disappointed look of Roy. "Aunt Jean read _To Kill a Mockingbird _to me, and I used to hide things in the knothole of that tree." I point towards the backyard where a large oak tree stands next to the shed.

Instantly, Roy grabs my hand and marches me towards said tree.

"We put the spare key in a box." I'm defensive. It isn't like I put it under the matt.

"Let me," he says, grabbing my hand midway to the hiding place. From his pocket, he pulls out a white handkerchief and uses it to retrieve the box.

It isn't a deep hole, but it is dark, and unless you knew something was inside you wouldn't notice anything. I smile when he pulls out the old tin crayon box that Aunt Jean picked out specifically for our hidey hole. Roy shakes it and I expect to hear the key rattling around inside, but there is no sound. He has to twist the top some to get the lid off and holds it down so I can see inside.

"What is that?" I'm looking at something square inside a plastic bag.

"Luther," Roy yells. "He's got some gloves that will work better." He explains.

The older man is slipping on the latex gloves as he steps around me. He's larger up close and has an aura of lethal competence about him. I realize that he too is dressed in dark slacks, white shirt, and a matching suit jacket. Maybe this is their uniform. Wouldn't it be funny if he was a sub? I shake that thought from my head and watch as Luther reaches in and flips the plastic bag over.

"That's me, and…" I feel slightly woozy suddenly and Roy steadies me. "I'm asleep. Oh God, he's been in my bedroom while I'm asleep."

"The police should be called on this." Luther grinds out the words through clenched jaws. "It's what the stalker expects to see."

"Agreed, make the call, I'll take Ava inside."

Robotically I walk while Roy guides me into my kitchen. "What was damaged?" I ask, amazed I sound so calm.

"He ripped up your clothes, specifically your underclothes. Tore and scattered them all over your bedroom. We think he was upset that you didn't come home last night. His obsession is escalating and he's acting out."

It sounds like we're talking about a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. "I'd like to see." I expect an argument, but he nods and walks with me down the hallway that leads to my bedroom. I stop. "How did Luther know there was damage?"

"Your locks are easy to pick."

Oh, my home, my sanctuary, is suddenly Grand Central. I'm staring at the bed knowing that the stalker stood right beside it to take the picture of me. He was close enough to touch me. There is something terrifying about being helpless while a stranger wishing you harm is watching you. I shudder and Roy's arm envelopes me and I lean my head against his chest.

"You're safe, Ava, I won't let anyone hurt you." I must be in shock. My mind isn't working at its normal speed. You won't let anyone hurt me, but you. I try to push away from him. "I want to clean this up." I'm trapped within his iron embrace, but instead of fear I feel his warmth and comfort surrounding me.

"No, the police will need to take pictures."

Yes, of course, he's right.

The lunch I just ate feels slightly dodgy in my stomach. "I need some tea." That will settle my stomach. I look around one more time. It's like someone put all my meager lingerie into a blender and then tossed the shreds around the room. I see the tattered remains of a chemise Aunt Jean gave me for Christmas. "I have so few nice things. Why did he have to destroy them?" I don't realize I've said it aloud until Roy responds.

"You'll have all the pretty things you want." He turns me around and with his arm wrapped around my waist walks me back to the kitchen. "Sit," he orders, and I do while I watch him put the kettle on to boil.

The police chief is here. I can hear him talking with Luther outside on the porch. He won't brush Luther or Roy off like he did me. I'm not sure why, but my aunt was always guarded around Chief Brody, which was unusual since Aunt Jean had a warm demeanor.

"Where are your tea bags?" Roy asks. I point to the cabinet about the stove fan. "Earl Grey or Chamomile?"

"Earl Grey," I answer.

"I need to speak with Ava, she's the owner of the house." Chief Brody stomps into the kitchen with Luther looming behind him. "Ava," he says, taking in Roy. "Mr. Quint," he jerks his thumb back towards Luther. "He tells me you had an intruder."

The kitchen is too small for three large men and irrationally I feel like the oxygen is being sucked out of the room. I concentrate on Roy pouring boiling water over the tea bag; he dips it a few times in the water, and carefully places it in the sink. "Sugar?" he asks me. I shake my head and he deposits the mug in front of me and turns to Chief Brody. "Miss Carlisle is upset and has no additional information to give you. Mr. Quint and I will handle this for her."

"And you are," Brody's eyes narrow.

"Roy Blackwood, President of Blackwood Security. I assume you have heard of my company."

I sip my tea and enjoy the look of surprise on Brody's face.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood, I have." He recovers slightly. "I don't understand what you have to do with Ava."

I thought I'd witnessed mad Roy, but what I'd seen before was probably only mild irritation. His anger is controlled, calm, and seeps out of his pores infecting the whole room. There is a blustering type of anger, like a small dog yapping, and then there is Roy and Luther's anger, quiet, stalking, watchful, and waiting for the moment to strike.

"Miss Carlisle is mine." Roy says each word distinctly. "Do you understand now?"

My mouth drops open, but I recover in time to snap it shut just before Brody looks at me. I do my best to return his questioning gaze with a calm one. I feel I'm witnessing some private male ritual. Maybe this is how they think of women, as mine and not mine.

"The crime scene is down the hall," Luther says. "Everything is as we found it, if you would follow me."

Brody glares at me. "Ava, you shouldn't be with the likes of Mr. Blackwood."

What is he talking about? Why does he care? Isn't he the one who told me not to worry?

Brody addresses Roy. "I know about you Mr. Blackwood. You run mercenaries." He sneers at me. "Among other things. Ava," he says my name kinder this time. "You don't know what kind of man he is."

"I'm the kind of man who protects what is mine, Chief Brody. Who doesn't dismiss a young woman's fear and leave her defenseless."

"Chief Brody." Luther says, looking first to Roy and then Brody. "Do you have someone with you to take pictures and dust for fingerprints?" Luther asks.

"Jason," Chief Brody barks, his eyes fixed on Roy.

Jason and I went to high school together. He was popular and the quarterback of the football team. I haven't seen him in a while and he looks just the same. He gives me a slight nod of the head, "Ava," he says.

"Let's get this over with." Chief Brody snaps at Jason and follows Luther down the hall.

"Breathe." Roy is next to me with his hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, Ava."

I sigh as the warmth from his hand spreads through my body.

"Let's go sit out back." He carries my tea in one hand and reaches out for my hand with the other. "It's nice today, not too humid."

I follow him and sit on the wooden swing. He hands me the mug and sits down next to me. I can see Luther looking down at us from my bedroom window. After a moment he closes the blind.

"I don't understand why he said that."

"Chief Brody?" Roy places his hand on my knee and I like the sensation of his callouses on my skin. "He feels we're invading his territory. It's a typical response. That part about you." He's tracing a figure eight pattern on my knee with his forefinger. "He seemed unusually protective, perhaps the chief is jealous."

"I'm not yours," I blurt out. His finger stops for a moment and then resumes.

"I needed the Chief to know where he stands and how invested I am in your wellbeing."

I sip my tea and let my mind marinate on that statement.

"Luther has located the box of patient records in your aunt's room. There are only a few and all are over ten years old." He turns his head to the side slightly, thinking probably. "The law is a bit vague with this, but everything will be done with the strictest of confidentiality and all shall be returned to you."

I'm thinking of all the stories inside those files.

"If you are amenable, I'd like to have someone in my office review them and see if anyone meets the profile of your stalker."

I nod. This must be Roy's professional voice reserved for clients. Needing to see his eyes, I turn tucking my leg underneath me to face him. "You know I can't pay you for all this." His hand is still on my leg, he kept contact while I moved and now it is lying flat against my inner thigh. I drain the last of my tea and place the mug on the swing's arm.

"I meant what I said in there."

"Why? You just met me." I'm shaking my head at the emotions he stirs in me. Is it only because I'm scared? No, I don't think so. I would feel this way about him no matter the circumstance. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

Roy's hand tightens around my thigh and he uses his legs to push the swing back, holding me in place while we move back and forth. "We've met before."

I laugh. "I would remember meeting you."

His gray eyes soften as he smiles. "It was right after your mother died. I was just out of the military, starting my business, and I contracted your aunt to do psych evaluations on potential hires. She brought you to my office." Roy's forefinger slips underneath the hem of my skirt. I look down fascinated by the sensation. Sadly, he clinches his hand into a fist, then opens his fingers wide, and finally, carefully takes my hem between two fingers and pulls the fabric down covering my knee. When I look back up, he's not looking at me anymore, but up at my bedroom window. "You were sitting in the reception area reading a book. You looked up when we walked out of my office and I remember you had the most beautiful hazel eyes I'd ever seen."

"I don't remember."

"As my business grew, I put your aunt on a retainer. She contacted me when she found out about her cancer and wanted to know if I'd look after you. She wasn't afraid to die, but was afraid to leave you alone."

"So all this is because of your promise to my aunt?"

"Yes and no." He reaches across and cups my face in his hand. I'm amazed at how expressive his eyes can be. "I could hand your care off to a team. They'd protect you, provide whatever you needed, but I can't bear to leave your side. Luther." He nods up towards my bedroom. "He's concerned I'm too involved to be effective. He's right of course, Luther sees what I am unwilling to acknowledge." Roy exhales. "I've ordered a twenty-four hour security detail for you."

My heart sinks; does that mean he's leaving?

"I will keep you safe, but I also need to pursue whatever this is between us." He looks at my lips. "And I can't do both." His head turns towards the shed and I see two men dressed in the same fashion as Roy and Luther standing with their hands clasped behind their backs. "They are your daytime security. Another team will take over at night."

Before I can ask any questions, Luther, Chief Brody, and Officer Jason Stone walk down the back steps. Jason has the tin box in his hand and is going towards the oak tree. Chief Brody gives me a hard look and follows his officer. Luther peels off and walks towards us.

"Well?" Roy asks.

Luther stands in front of us. It's hot, too warm for him to still have on a suit jacket. He puts his hands in his pants pockets and it shifts the jacket back. I see a gun holstered on his belt. Is Roy carrying a gun?

"Officer Stone is thorough. He dusted for prints, but I have a feeling they won't be our man." Luther gives Roy a look, which I'm sure is silently conveying something.

"If you'll give me a moment," Roy says to me. He rises off the swing and grabs the chain to keep it from rocking.

"No, I want to hear what Luther has to say."

Roy's jaw tightens, but he nods to Luther to go ahead.

"There were some suspicious stains on your clothing. Chief Brody called into his office and had a UV light brought over. It's dried semen. They took the clothes for analysis."

I close my eyes trying to shut out the revulsion I feel.

"Have you had sex with men in your room recently?" Luther asks.

"No," I keep my eyes shut. "No, never."

"I had to ask. I'll inform the police."

"Are they done?" Roy asks.

"Yes."

I open my eyes to see Luther's back as he's walking to the oak tree.

"Do you want to bring anything with you?" Roy asks.

"What?" I don't understand his question.

"Do you want to pack a bag? I'm taking you home."

"No, I'm not leaving," I say and grab the mug off the swing. With determination oozing from me, I trudge up the back steps. I'm reaching under the sink cabinet when I hear the screen door slam. I grab my rubber gloves and some cleaning products and place them on the counter.

"Ava, I can have someone clean this up."

"No, I need to do this, and I need to spend the night. If I leave now I don't think I'll ever come back, and I can't let this maniac do that to me. This house." I feel the tears flowing down my cheeks. "It's all I have. My mother left this for me. I can't let him take that away." I toss my hair out of my eyes and plant my feet shoulder width apart.

"One night and then you're coming home with me."

"I can't agree to that." I go to the laundry room for a bucket.

"I'm not negotiating."

"Neither am I." My fear has turned into anger. "I won't be bossed around. If you want to go home then go, I'm not stopping you."

He's raking both hands through his hair. "Ava, I should give you a good hiding and put you in the car."

I'm not sure what he's talking about, but a take a step back from him, not liking the glint in his eye.

"One night." He rolls up both his shirtsleeves. "I'm not leaving you, so let's get this cleaned up."

I'm relieved that he isn't fighting me, because this is exactly what I need to recover my equilibrium. To regain possession of my home by cleaning every inch until I know that there is no trace of the intruder left.

I assumed he would be of no help cleaning, but once again my assumptions about Roy are proven wrong. Without being told, he bags all my destroyed clothes and carries them out to the trashcan. I strip my bed completely and put the linens in the washer. I clean the furniture and windows and any surface I can see. Roy rolls up the carpet and carries that out to the trashcan also. Finally, I thoroughly clean the bathroom until it smells like a combination of Pine-Sol, Lysol, and bleach. When I walk into the kitchen, Roy has cleaned it and the family room.

"It's a good thing we don't smoke." He says with a dry smile. "I'm sure this place is flammable with all the cleaning products you used."

I laugh and go to the washer, taking out the linens and putting them in the dryer. "I'll get my aunt's room ready for you." I toss over my shoulder as I walk down the hall.

"Don't bother I'll be sleeping with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"You're wearing that?" Roy is sitting on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed taking off his socks.

I look down at my flannel pajamas, which happen to be my favorite, and scowl.

"A nun wears less to bed."

I'm not really comfortable with this, but I don't want to be alone in my bedroom, not yet at least. Luther brought over an overnight bag for Roy and I'm anxious to see what he sleeps in. Busying myself I roll down the covers and plump each pillow. He's tossed his shirt over the chair and slips his belt through the pant loops, it snaps when freed and I let out a little yelp.

He gives me a wolf's grin and unzips his pants. "Whoa," I cover my eyes with one hand. "You can change in the bathroom or…" My eyes still covered I point in the direction of my closet.

I hear his pants puddle on the floor and him step out of them. "Really Ava, you act like you've never seen a naked man before."

I haven't, but I don't want him to know that. My room feels too small with him here. I can't recall meeting anyone as large and powerfully built as Roy.

"Christ, you can look now."

I move my hand away from my eyes and he's standing an arm length away, nude. "You tricked me." My face turns a brilliant red and I whip my back to him.

"Aren't you glad? I'm just a man, Ava, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I have the same equipment as the boys you've dated. Look at me."

He's using that voice which my body finds impossible to deny. I bite my lip as I slowly turn back around trying to look worldly and unaffected by his physique and equipment, as he calls it. He's all muscle and looks like he's been cut from stone. My eyes naturally flow over his chest and the defined muscles of his stomach to the V-cut of his hips and then lower where it seems everything about Roy is large.

"You can touch me, if you want, I won't bite." He laughs. "Unless you ask nicely."

"No, I'm fine." I squeak.

"I sleep in the nude, but for you I'll make an exception." He walks over to the chair where his bag sits and turns his back to me to pull on pajama bottoms. I feel freer to look at him now, my eyes drink in his shoulders and back, thick with muscles. Involuntarily I take a few steps towards him, he stills, waiting for me to take the last few steps; instead I spin around and turn off the hall light.

"I'm perfectly fine with sleeping on the floor," he offers, eyeing me with what I think is a suspicious look.

"No," I swallow. "I'm just not used to this."

Roy sits on his side of the bed and slips his legs under the comforter, leaning back against the headboard. "That makes two of us then. I don't sleep with women."

"What?" I giggle and slip in next to him, pulling the comforter up to my chin, careful to keep any part of my body from touching his. "You've slept with lots of woman."

"No, I've had sex with lots of women, but I never sleep with them."

Oh, I see now. His eyes change from mischievous to serious. I feel the energy in the room become charged with electricity. The small hairs on my arms rise.

"I want you, Ava." He pauses and I can tell he's thinking. "I spoke to the doctor."

"What?"

"Dr. Simms, after he saw you I spoke with him about birth control for you." His fingers find the end of my braid and brush the untethered hair against his hand. "You aren't taking any, are you?"

"You had no right. That's none of your business." The doctor came to Roy's house and checked my temperature and took some blood, just to make sure there was no residual of the drug in my system. I remember he asked if I was taking any type of medication, including birth control. He wanted to be sure there was no interaction with the drug. "Aren't you being a bit presumptuous? What makes you think I would have sex with you?"

"I like the way you make me laugh."

"High handed, insufferable, domineering…" I wish I could think of more adjectives. "Vain!" Yes, that's a good one.

Roy smiles his devilish smile and I feel parts of me melt.

"I don't see the need to play these games. You want me. I can see it on your lips, in your eyes; your body is telling me you want me as much as I want you."

What he says is true. "Do you have sex with all your clients?"

"We've established you aren't a client. Now tell me what you want. I haven't done conventional in a while, but I'm sure it will all come back to me."

He's teasing me. I like it and I don't. I know this game will be over soon and I'll have to tell him the truth, or do I? Yes, I have to tell him, because this doesn't feel right. "Conventional?" I move closer to the edge of the bed and Roy releases my long braid.

"Basic sex," he grins. "I haven't done missionary since." He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling, "Since I don't know when. That's what the boys do in the backseat of cars, isn't it?"

I don't know. I never dated.

His eyes roam over my body, or where my body is, because I have the comforter pulled up to my chin, and my pajamas are a two set, my top is long sleeved and buttoned to my chin while the pants fall to my ankles.

"Ava, your hands are shaking." His right eye twitches just a fraction. "What was the name of the last boy you kissed?"

"Billy," I whisper.

"Tell me, how was that kiss with Billy?"

It was only memorable because I wasn't prepared for it. Billy – I can't remember his last name – caught me behind the bleachers when I was tying my shoe. I rose up and he gave me a quick kiss. "He almost knocked out my tooth." Why did I say that?

"I think I can do better than that." Roy's brow furrows.

My face is hot and flushed. I know I'm blushing redder than a scarlet letter right now. All I can manage is to shake my head. If I tell him the truth he might not kiss me and I desperately want him to kiss me. Why does he have to be such a complex man? Why does he need to control women? The thought of that has been nagging at me all day, nipping at my mental heels, wanting to be addressed.

Roy slips down under the covers, props himself up on his arm to face me. For once, I'm looking down at him. "You're such a small thing. Are you worried I'm too large for you?"

I nod, that is part of the truth.

The crease in his brow eases. "Don't be. I won't give you more than you can take. I'll probably be more careful than you like. My experience is with larger women, so I'll be extra cautious." He brushes his finger down my braid. "Tell me what you like, what the boys did that gave you pleasure."

"Oh my god." I pull the comforter over my face. "You're so blunt."

"Ava," he sighs. His hand pulls mine down. "Look at me." I try to meet his, but fail miserably and end up looking at his lips whereupon he takes my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. "Just tell me what you want."

Aunt Jean always told me to be honest with myself and others. I want Roy. Every fiber of my being is screaming to kiss his lips and let him do whatever the hell he does with women to me. But my heart wants more than just a spectacular sexual experience. I have to tell him, before things spiral out of control.

"No," I shake my head. "I can't." I see just a tiny flash of hurt in his gray eyes and then it's gone.

"I won't do anything you don't want. I know what you saw on the internet. That is not what I'm about. I can read desire in the way your body reacts to mine. So why do you lie to me with your mouth?"

Okay, time to woman up and tell him the truth. "I can't tell you what I want, because I don't know."

Roy goes very still. "What do you mean you don't know?"

The pent up words tumble out of my mouth. "I don't know anything about sex. I've never had a date, never seen a naked man before, well, before you. Never done anything, except for the one kiss when I was in fifth grade." I hear his sharp intake of breath, but keep my eyes down, determined to finish what I want to say. "I've never felt desire before, not until I met you. I don't know what I like, but I know that I don't want to be another one of your subs, if I even could which I don't think is viable for me, or have a contractual agreement where we have sex one day a week in some apartment. I don't want this to be just about sex. I want us to date, to have a relationship." He abruptly sits up. "I don't just want sex, I want to make love, have this mean something."

He throws the comforter off him and launches himself from the bed. I watch him pace around the room. "Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?"

"I just did."

"No, before. Jesus, the way I was talking with you. I thought you were an ! You haven't even been kissed."

"I am an adult."

"In age only. You're body…" He looks at me and then quickly away.

"I want to be with you. I'm not saying we'll fall in love, but I want what happens between us to be out in the open, not something hidden, or in secret. Does that make sense?"

"I knew you were young." He's still pacing and shaking his head. "I should have known." He sits on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and puts his head in his hands. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"There's a bottle of red wine in the pantry." Aunt Jean always had a glass in the evening.

He gets up and looks at me for a long moment, I think he's going to say something, but then he turns and leaves the room. I hear him walk down the hall, the pantry door open and shut, he's going through the kitchen drawers looking for the corkscrew. More pantry doors open and I hear the clicking of glasses, and then he's in the doorway. "I brought a glass for you." He glances at the alarm clock. "You'll be twenty-one in two hours," he says with a weak smile.

I nod and sit cross-legged on the bed watching while he pulls the cork out and pours two glasses. He hands one to me and sits down on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on my leg. "I didn't know. You're beautiful and I just assumed someone had plucked you long ago." He gives me a one-sided smile. "Sometimes after a traumatic event adults engage in sex because its life affirming or it gives them a respite from the pain. I read your signals wrong. I assumed that's what you wanted from me. Given your condition, this isn't the right time. You should wait until this is over perhaps, and see how you feel then."

I take a sip of wine. "You make it sound like I have a disease."

"Ava," he sighs.

"I won't change my mind. If none of this were happening, I'd still be drawn to you, I'm sure it of it. I've never met anyone like you." I'm not comfortable talking about feelings.

"I don' know how to handle you. A virgin has never graced my bed." Roy traces my jawline with his finger. "What exactly do you mean by a relationship?"

Oh boy, like I know? I put my glass on the nightstand. "Just the normal dating stuff. Go out to dinner, to the movies, be a part of each other's lives. You've never dated?"

He gets up and pours a fresh glass. "No. Go on, what else?"

I shrug feeling I've covered everything. "Be open to where things go between us, or don't."

"Does a relationship allow us to give each other gifts, for one to care for the other?"

"Sure, that's what couples do. Look," I lean my elbows on my legs. "I'm not saying this will turn into marriage or anything." I see him blanch. "I'm saying I want you to let me into your life. Haven't any of the women you've had sex with wanted this?"

"Yes, but I never considered it until now." He's up and pacing again. "If we should be compatible in a _relationship_ will you be open to my sexual needs?"

I shudder remembering the images I saw on the internet. "I don't know. I have no frame of reference. I know that I want to be with you, and that I've never felt that type of desire before. I thought I was frigid."

"Frigid! Where did you get an idea like that?" He's leaning down with his hands on the cedar chest and he looks ready to pounce on me.

"I've always been shy." I avoid his intense stare. "The boys used to tease me and call me Frigidaire."

"Amazing." He stands and links his fingers behind his head. "We have a certain chemistry between us, I won't deny that. Promise me you'll be open to it, that you'll trust me enough to try it when I think the time is right."

I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "Yes, I promise I'll try.

"You're too fucking tempting." He's pacing again.

"I'm afraid."

"Of me?" He stops and his arms fall to his sides.

"Sort of, not exactly."

He walks to the doorway and turns on the hall light, closes the bedroom door halfway, and shuts off the lamp next to the bed. "I won't do anything you don't want." He walks around and gets into bed. "Lie next to me." His voice is deeper, huskier now, and my body responds. Effortlessly, he rolls over almost on top of me and kisses my forehead. "You aren't ready for sex; excuse me, to make love yet. We can do other things. Would you like that?"

"Yes," I say the word on a long breath.

Keeping his weight off me, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. "So soft," he moans, and increases the pressure, his tongue skirting across my lower lip. "Open your mouth and let me taste you."

The feel of his tongue causes me to moan and my lower belly feels hollow and achy. My arms wrap around him and instinctively my nails scrape across his back.

"Sweet baby, not that, not now." He looks down at me, his hair falling in his eyes, which are ablaze. "Give me your hands," he orders and holds out his. My inner conflict is short, and I have to wrap my one arm around him to join with the other. He takes both my wrists in one hand and raises them above my head.

"Why?" I ask, not sure the reason for my imprisonment.

"I need to maintain control. The feel of your hands, your nails on my back," he closes his eyes for a moment. "Can I unbutton your top?"

I nod, and know I'd say yes to anything he wants at the moment. With my wrists in his left hand, he uses his right to slowly release each button until he moves my shirt to either side exposing my breasts.

"So beautiful," he whispers and uses his forefinger to trace a line from my throat to my belly button. "Your skin is perfect. I want to touch your breasts."

Is he asking me or telling me?

"Ava," he prompts.

"Please," I moan more than say and don't recognize my own voice. I wait, and wait, but he does nothing until I open my eyes and look up at him.

"There you are, my sweet baby." He leans down and kisses my lips. "Don't close your eyes to me, see yourself through mine. See how beautiful you are to me."

He's kissing down my neck and I desperately want to run my fingers through his hair. "Please let my hands go," I whisper.

"Promise you won't scratch my back."

"Yes, I promise." His hand releases mine and instantly my fingers are running through his hair. It's just how I thought it would feel, soft and thick and I lean my head forward to inhale the scent of his shampoo. His kisses feel like liquid fire moving through my body.

Roy rises up. "This won't do." He takes my hand and places it above my head. "Grab hold of the railing." Without question I do as I'm told. "So sweet," he runs his finger along my rib cage causing me to shiver with the delicious sensation. "Now the other." He waits until both my hands are firmly in place. "Leave them just like that."

His eyes roam over my breasts. "So petite, except for these."

With one hand he has my breast cupped and his tongue is making circles around my nipple. His other hand is gently squeezing and pulling my other nipple. "Roy, oh Roy, that feels so good."

He lifts up from my breast. "I know sweet baby, I know." He goes back to my breast and sucks on my nipple while still squeezing and twisting the other one. My back is bowed and offering myself to him. My hips are wanton and moving of their own accord. With each tug and twist of my nipple I feel a corresponding ache deep in my belly. Too soon he stops and slips to the side of me and takes my hand, moving it down my belly.

"I want to see you pleasure yourself."

I turn my head to look at him, confused, and irritated that he's stopped. "What?"

He moves my hand lower, I resist. "Show me."

"I don't understand."

"I want to see how you make yourself orgasm."

Oh, I know what he wants now, and my face must show the truth of it. "I've never, I don't. Maybe I am frigid," I whisper.

"Impossible." He places my hand above my head and slips his fingers an inch underneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms. "Let me show you."

"You'll stop if I want, right?"

Lightly he presses down on my lower belly, easing some of the ache with the warmth of his hand, and leans in to kiss me. "Trust me, sweet baby. I won't do anything you don't want. All you need say is stop."

His mouth finds my nipple, deliciously sore from his attention, and his hand moves down between my legs. Involuntarily my hips jerk upwards to meet him.

"You are so wet, baby, so wet for me."

"Please, please." Every nerve in my body is awake and filled with sensation. I'm tensing and building towards an unknown destination. Roy is using his hand and making circles over and over again between my legs. My hips push up begging for him to continue. He bites just this side of painful down on my nipple and I cry out, loving it and wanting more. I feel his breath at my ear, kissing my lobe. I bend my legs, spreading my knees, opening myself to him completely. My limbs begin to quiver and shake.

"Ah, sweet baby, almost there." His fingers press down harder and move faster, I can hear the sound of my moisture as he slips across the bundle of nerves at my core.

"Roy," I cry out. My body goes rigid with the intensity of the orgasm as it rips through me and then I explode. I shatter into a million pieces, falling and calling out his name, and then there is nothing but the feel of his strong arms cradling me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It's the light filtering in through the windows that finally pushes me over the edge into waking. I stretch, remembering events of last night and turn my head to see if Roy is next to me. He is not, but I hear his voice. It sounds like he's talking on the phone. I do a double take when I read the time on the alarm clock; it is a little after eleven.

"Happy birthday." Roy is leaning against the bedroom doorframe with a wolfish grin on his face. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," I say sheepishly. He's dressed in grey slacks and a white oxford shirt. His hair is damp from the shower and he has a shadow of growth on his face. I like him like this, more rough looking, and wonder how my skin would feel against his stubble.

He comes and sits on my side of the bed, leaning over and gently kissing me. "I had hoped for more adjectives to describe your current state of being."

"I feel great." I'm twisting the bed sheet around my finger.

"Well," he runs his finger down my cheek. "I'll endeavor to be more memorable in the future."

I roll my eyes at him. "I need to get up." I look around the room remembering what the stalker had done, but now it's replaced with other memories, good memories instead of bad. "Thank you for staying with me, for cleaning up." My cheeks are aflame, and I squeak out, "for everything."

He seems to understand my shyness and stands, and reaches his hand out to me. "You're only twenty-one once" He looks at his wristwatch. "We'll need to leave here at three."

"Why?"

"Because I have something planned for you, at home."

He must mean his home since we're in my home. I'm leery because Roy has that look which means I won't be getting any further information out of him. Inwardly, I'm amazed that I can read his body language already. This smugness evaporates when I stand; wincing with a slight ache between my thighs and my breasts, heavy and full, rake against my flannel shirt – which is soft – but this morning the fabric feels like sandpaper.

"Are you alright?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Fine, I just need a shower." I peek through my hair to return his gaze. "I'm not a morning person."

"I would be happy to assist you, Miss Carlisle."

I exhale a small sigh of relief that playful Roy has returned, and he won't press me to explain my discomfort. Feeling emboldened, I return his teasing. "Mr. Blackwood, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that very much."

Roy growls which causes an internal spark inside my body to fire. I want to touch him, to unbutton his shirt, and run my hands over his chest. Should I?

"What do you want for breakfast?"

His question knocks me out of my internal conflict. "You're cooking?" He doesn't seem like the kind of man who cooks.

"I know the basics. Or I could take you out for something."

"Yes, please." Definitely get out of the house so I don't act the things that my body wants from me, and him. "Aunt Jean and I used to go to this diner. It has the best pancakes and they serve them all day."

"Then go," he says, shooing me out of the bedroom. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

As I turn on the water, I'm a little disappointed he didn't insist on joining me, but I'm also relieved. I need time to adjust to the intimacy we're sharing. I'm struck by how gentle and caring he can be. Is this unique to me? Or is he this way with his subs? God, I hate that word and all it implies. Does he think of me that way? Surely, not. Should I should write my questions so I don't get sidetracked and forget. He has a way of making my body take over my mind.

My hand, lathered and slick, slides down to the spot his fingers worked last night. "Ahh," I breathe out. That is the spot. It's feels exquisite and soft and sexy, and yet not nearly as good as when Roy touched me. I begin to imagine his hand and his mouth moving over my body and quicker than I want, I'm peaking, not as high as last night, but still I have given myself pleasure and finally, and hopefully forever, dispelled the fear that I am frigid.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I stare at the tiny note from my aunt still affixed to the bottom corner. _You are Loved_, my aunt's handwriting has dulled through the years, and the edges of the note are frayed, but it still causes me to smile every time I sees it.

Since it's my birthday, I decide to make an extra effort to look nice. Well, that's what I tell myself, but I know that it's for Roy. Slowly, I use a round brush to blow dry out the curls from my long hair. It's become too unmanageable. I should have cut it months ago and make a mental note to book an appointment. When I'm moderately happy with the results, I open the cabinet under the sink and pull out my plastic tray of beauty items.

I put on some mascara, taking my time to catch each lash with the brush. My aunt gave me an eye shadow case with a multitude of colors. I choose tinted beige with rose hints and use the sponge brush to cover my lids. I've always been lucky and have good skin, so I don't need foundation, but choose to put on a light dusting of blush. I like the way I look now. I'm pale, but my hazel eyes and chestnut colored hair give me a lot of coloring.

As I enter my closet, I hear Roy back on the phone. Though I strain to decipher his words, I cannot, and instead mull over my clothing options. I could wear shorts, but want something a little dressier. I choose a sundress that skims just above my knees.

When I walk into the kitchen I see a vase filled with roses sitting on the kitchen table. In front of the flowers is a beautifully wrapped box. Roy's back is to me while he finishes his call. I hear the name Maxine, and something about records. My mind whirs wondering what is going on. I decide not to care, not on my birthday and instead brush my fingers over the rose petals. He's chosen red, beige, and light peach colors. I need to research the meaning behind the colors, or maybe I should just enjoy how lovely these are.

Roy ends his call and slips the phone into his suit coat hanging on the back of the chair. "Ava." He's closes the distance between us and places one hand at the small of my back, pressing me against him, with the other hand he wraps around my hair and pulls my head back, forcing my face up to his and covering my lips with his. His kiss is forceful, claiming me as his. When he releases me I grab the chair to keep from stumbling backward. "You take my breath away," he says.

I couldn't agree more. His look of desire gives me confidence, and amazement that I can affect someone so handsome. "Do you like it?" I ask, turning, hoping he thinks the halter dress looks good on me.

"Yes, Ava, I like it very much, and I will like it even more when I peel it off your body this evening."

I can't meet his eyes afraid that I might crumble from the sensations he's awakened in my body with only his voice.

"Thank you." I break eye contact with him and stare at the roses. "I've never gotten roses before."

"Remember what you promised me last night?"

What? Which promise is he referring to?

"You agreed that we can give each other gifts and care for each other."

Oh, that one. I nod and carefully remove the bow, sliding it off the box, wanting to keep it intact so I can put it in my keepsake trunk. The cover of the box is wrapped separately so I only need to lift the lid off. The inside is full of tissue paper; I dig down and pull out a silver keychain engraved with my initials and a key dangling from it. "What is this?"

"Your first gift of the day." He takes my hand and walks me out to the driveway.

I see one of the guards Roy's assigned to me nods as we walk past.

"Happy birthday." Roy turns me towards the Volvo we rode in yesterday.

I must be missing something. "What?"

"Ava, you do make me laugh. The car, it's your gift. I bought it for you. It's extremely safe and, from what I could tell, you liked it."

That's why it smelled new, it is new. "I can't accept this."

"Can't or won't." Roy's grey eyes burn. "We're in a relationship now, Ava. I'm a rich man, and this is something you need."

"I'm not comfortable with this." I wrap my arms around my waist.

"If you don't like the color or model, then you can pick something else out."

"No, no." I turn away from the car. "It's too expensive. It makes me feel cheap, like you're buying me." I whisper. "I'm not one of those women." Your subs.

"Cheap, buying you," he says, loud enough that the guard looks at us, and then quickly away. "Let's take this inside."

I'm being marched back into my home, pushed down onto a kitchen chair like a misbehaving toddler while Roy leans against the counter, riveting me with his intense gaze.

"How could this possibly make you feel cheap? Me, caring for you, looking after you, making sure you have something safe to drive."

"Is this what you for all the women you're in a _relationship_ with?" I'm slow to anger, but he's pushing all my buttons.

"No, of course not." His fingers rake through his hair. I remember how his fingers felt on my skin. "You are the only one," he continues.

"What will people think?"

He looks up at the ceiling, thinking, but about what? Did he have discussion such as this with subs? Or did they just do whatever he said. Finally, he speaks, "They'll think I'm besotted with a beautiful woman."

"Besotted!" He's surprised me, and I can't help but smile up at him, feeling slightly silly. But that doesn't change how I feel about accepting such an expensive gift from him. "I can't accept it."

Roy's eyebrow lifts in displeasure.

My heart sinks. I don't want to disappoint him, but I don't want him to think of me as 'one of those women'. "If it makes you feel better I'll drive it, and take care of it, but I'll think of it as a loaner."

"Think of it however you like, as long as you drive it." He pushes off from the counter. "Now, we need to get some food in you."

"Do you always get your way?" I ask. Roy's expression tells me this conversation is over.

I drive, loving how easy the car maneuvers, the quiet insular feel of the cabin, and pick a parking spot away from other cars which isn't difficult at this time of day.

Donna immediately comes over to our table. We went to high school together, though we weren't friends. Actually, I don't think we ever exchanged a word between us. She was a cheerleader, I was a quiet mouse.

"Ava, I haven't seen you here in a while." Donna doesn't look at me, but stands directly in Roy's line of sight. I watch, fascinated by her ease with showing her sexuality as she shifts her weight so her hips and bust are clearly displayed.

"Do you know what you want?" Roy asks me. I point towards the special on the menu. He takes my menu and hands both to Donna. "Ava will have the pancake special with orange juice. I will have the western omelet with home fries and a cup of coffee."

I'm watching Donna. She isn't happy that Roy isn't noticing her and brushes her finger over his hand as she takes the menus. "That will be all." Roy voice is ice cold.

"Ava," Donna will not be deterred. "Introduce me to your handsome friend."

"Hmm, this is…Roy Blackwood."

"I'm Donna." She taps her nametag which is perfectly placed next to her ample cleavage.

"Donna," Roy dips his head slightly. "My lover and I would like to have a private conversation and eat our food, preferably hot, and in peace."

Her mouth drops open. "Well," she huffs, turns on her heels and walks away.

Roy places his hand on my thigh and I mouth up at him 'lover'.

"I don't think she would have backed off if I said you were my girlfriend."

He has a point, and inwardly I like having Donna think we'd just come from making wild and passionate sex. And knowing she was green with envy didn't hurt either.

"You must have women throwing themselves at you all the time." I remember my questions. "Do you have a pen?"

He doesn't answer my first question, but produces a pen from inside his coat jacket and hands it to me. I use a napkin to quickly jot down my questions.

"Do you all wear suit jackets with no ties?" He cocks his eyebrow at me. "Your security people, or whatever their called." He continues to stare so I elaborate. "I have questions and I don't have a file on you. Plus when we're alone I get distracted."

He rubs his finger across his lower lip. "I have my suits, and the suits of my employees, tailored to accommodate pockets and extra room to conceal weapons. Attired this way we can easily fit into any situation. We have ties, though they are rarely required."

"Are you wearing a gun now?"

Roy points to his feet and lifts up his right pants leg so I can see the gun snug in an ankle holster. "What else Miss Carlisle?"

He's playful Roy now. "How old are you?"

"I thought you would have looked that up on the internet."

"I got sidetracked."

"Yes, I gather that. I'm thirty years old."

"Oh, so old." I thought he was younger. Did it matter?

"You make me sound like I'm in need of a walker."

I like him like this, relaxed and enjoying himself. Another waitress, I don't know, brings my orange juice and Roy's coffee and leaves quickly.

"Parents, ex-wife, children?"

"My parents are dead, no wives ex, living, or dead, and no children."

"How did your parents die?"

"That is not a conversation for today."

My interest is piqued, but I move on. "Siblings?"

"None."

"Are you this sweet with all the women you…see?"

This question surprises him. "Sweet is not a word I would use, nor they. I've explained it was—"

"Just sex. Yes, I know but…"

"No buts. This has nothing to do with our relationship. You are the only woman I care about now." His playfulness has vanished. "I'm a monogamous man. While I'm with you there will be no one else, and I expect the same from you."

Our food arrives. Still no sign of Donna, and we fall into silence as we eat. He's efficient and quick with his meal; done before me, and looking around the diner. My plate is still half full when I can't eat anymore and push it away. I can feel his disapproval.

"Why do you always insist I eat?" I blurt out.

Roy slips his arm behind me and sips his coffee. "You've lost someone you love. Grief is a powerful emotion. It can cause people to forget to take care of themselves properly. I have no issues with food; I just need to know you're properly nourished."

"Why? Why do you care for me when it's obvious you could have anyone?"

"I know how my appearance affects women. What lies beneath is not so handsome."

"Is that a warning?"

"Warning." He shakes his head. "No, but I'm a complicated man."

"Who's Maxine?"

"It's your birthday. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"No, I'd rather talk now." I can be as stubborn as you. "Please."

He folds his napkin and places it on the table. "She works for me. She looks a little like you up close and a lot like you from afar. She will be living in your home, mimicking your daily movements to draw out the stalker."

What? I'm shocked. "And you were going to tell me this when?"

"Tomorrow."

"Will she be safe?" I see the logic behind the plan, but having a stranger in my home, and in danger, does not sit well with me.

"Yes, she served two tours in Afghanistan, and has worked for me for three years."

"Does Chief Brody know about this?"

"He does." I catch the slight uptick of his lip.

"What am I to do while Maxine is pretending to be me?"

"Enjoy my home, shop, exercise, do whatever you'd like to do."

"I want this to be over, so I can go back home, and get back to my job."

"You aren't much for idle time are you?" He cocks his head to the side.

"How long do you think this will take?"

"I don't know. I didn't expect him to be so close to you. He's a threat, not someone to be taken lightly. I don't like to be wrong." His hand slides under the table and squeezes my thigh. "Are you ready?" I nod as he tucks a generous tip underneath the salt shaker.

"I'd like to stop by and visit my aunt and mother."

He waits for me to slide out of the booth and we walk to the counter and pay. The drive to the cemetery is quiet and he stays behind while I go to their graves. I notice the two guards tracking me at a respectful distance.

"Have they been with us the whole time?"

"Yes."

"What about when I'm in your home?"

"Always." His tone says he will not entertain any discussion of this. "They are professionals. You won't know they are there."

I will, but I don't want to argue about it right now and continue down the path to the two graves which are placed next to each other, connected in death as in life. With no words exchanged Roy understands that I need to sit with them alone and lags behind to lean against a tree and wait for me. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when I see that the tomb stone is clear with no gardenias resting atop.

Since my aunt's death, I've visited regularly. I find it peaceful to sit and think in a place where the struggles of life are over for the inhabitants. It's not that I expect the dead to hear me, or at least I hope they don't. I mean it would be sad if all the dead did was hang around with the living. I'd like to think that they move on to another place that is far more interesting than here, otherwise what would be the point in having life after death. But that doesn't keep me from chatting with them, well really just my aunt, as I did with her in life.

It's not lost on me that my aunt, a staunch supporter of women being independent and not relying on a man to provide for them, has put me in the capable hands of Roy. I'm confused by my feelings for Roy and the incredibly pull I feel to him. Last night, he was gentle and caring, and I felt safe in his arms. Maybe I'm making too much of this, Aunt Jean always told me to let go more, to just enjoy life and not try to dissect it. Why wouldn't she have told me about Roy years ago? I remember when she put his card into my hand and forced me to promise that I would contact him if I needed help. Did she foresee the stalker? Did she suspect I might have one?

I'll never know now, because the dead keep their secrets and the living go on with life. I remember Aunt Jean saying that on numerous occasions. Was she lamenting that fact or reassured by it? My thoughts are interrupted by a soft breeze scented with the honeysuckle that grows along the edge of the cemetery. I look over and see one of the guards looking bored and reluctantly decide it is time to go.

"I'll be back soon." I kiss my hand and touch it to both gravestones and walk over to Roy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Roy drove while I stared out the window watching the landscape move past at eighty plus miles per hour. A part of my heart, that I hadn't known was frozen, was melting. Roy cares for me, truly cares for me, not lust – though there was that – but, his actions say that he is besotted by my presence as much as I am by his. Is this the way love starts? Or is our situation unique?

Knowing there is someone out there who wishes me harm, who has been in my home, makes me afraid. But with Roy, I feel nothing can harm me. He won't allow it. I know, without a doubt, that he will save me, not matter the cost to him. How do I know this? Am I delusional?

"You alright?" he asks.

I turn towards him and nod, and then realize he is watching the road. "Fine, just thinking."

"Hmm, thinking." He gives me a quick side glance. "Good thinking or bad thinking?"

"About last night." I lie.

He grips the steering wheel tighter. "And what are you thinking so hard about from last night?"

"Am I a slut?" The question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. I sit, still as a hunted rabbit, wishing I could evaporate into the ether.

"Have you ever had sex?" he asks.

He knows I haven't. I risk a quick glance in his direction, and breathe a sigh of relief. He's not scowling. "No, you know that."

"Yes, I do, so I'm wondering how it's possible that you could ask that question." He rears back in his seat to adjust his pants. "Personally, I think women love sex as much as men, and to call them a slut, is offensive."

"It's…" How honest should I be? "We just met, and I feel I've always known you, and my body…wants things." Now you've done it Ava.

He turns the A/C up and his hand hovers for a moment between us until he lays it softly on my knee and gives me a gently squeeze. "I want you to remember what I'm about to say."

"Okay," I squeak.

"Hold on." He turns the blinker on, changes lanes, and pulls over on the side of the road. "There is," he starts, turns to face me, and continues, "nothing you can say or do that will make me care for you less. But I hadn't known, until this moment that you could make me care for you more." His hand moves up my leg and cups my face. "I'm honored that your body wants things, as you say, from me. I want them too." His eyes narrow. "More than you could ever know."

"What if the things you want, I don't?" It has to be asked, given the things he's told me.

Roy places small kisses up my neck until he whispers in my ear. "Then we will do the things you want. Anything with you is better than all I've done before."

I turn my head to meet his lips, hot and demanding.

"Not here." He breaks our contact too soon and turns back in his seat.

Of course he's right. We're on the side of a road, traffic is whizzing by, and all I can think about is him standing naked before me.

"When we get home, if you like, we can continue this conversation." Effortlessly, he merges back into traffic.

If I'm not honest with Roy, I know I will regret. "Show me more, tonight, of what you like?"

"Alright," he says, and takes my hand. "I won't ever hurt you, Ava, not ever."

When we return to his home, Roy has to step out, to take care of some work things. I'm fine with it as I need to think and take a book to his pool, which is like something from a five star resort.

Hours later, after an incredibly birthday meal, he brings me a stack of presents to open.

"Roy this is too much." I'm staggered by the amount of gifts.

"You're only twenty-one once, so let me enjoy giving you beautiful things. You can chastise me later."

His tone is playful but it stings. I wasn't raised to be ungrateful or rude. "Which one should I open first?"

He hands me a small box. "I got this for you today, after our chat."

I feel my skin blush. Anxious, and a bit afraid, I carefully tear the wrapping away and open the box. "Earrings?" I hold one up. It's sort of like a clip, made with silver and has what looks like a ruby hanging from one end. "Their beautiful," I add.

His smile is mischievous. "It's something for later."

"I see." I say slowly and before I can delve deeper into the mysterious jewelry he hands me another present. This one is easy to figure out; it's lingerie, beautiful and delicate lace panties and bras in pale colors. I brush my hand over them feeling the softness of the fabric. "Did you pick these out?"

"Of course." Roy smiles, playful and suggestive.

Throughout dinner my thoughts refused to remain in the present and kept wondering off to what sexual discoveries Roy would lead me to later in the evening. Each time he wiped his lips, or took a drink of wine, I found myself thinking about his lips on my body again. I'm sure he knew what I was feeling and tormented me with his expressions, his choice of eating a spear of broccoli with his fingers, and offering to feed me steak one forkful at a time.

Impatient, I quickly open the rest of the gifts. There is a laptop, a red satin night gown, and various gift cards from store names I don't recognize.

"Come," he reaches out his hand for me, and grabs the earring box. "Let me show you my bedroom."

Oh, my heart jumps a beat and I feel light headed as I follow.

"I've been waiting for this all day." He walks me to the opposite side of the house than where I slept before. We go down a wide hall, at the end I see double doors, he pushes them open and there is a large bed sitting on a slight raised area on the far side of the room. To the right is a fireplace with a fire burning. The lights are dim and the firelight gives the room a glow. To the left is a hallway that must lead to the bathroom and further back in the room are a sofa and some chairs. It's a comfortable space with large floor to ceiling windows covered in rich chocolate colored drapes behind the seating area. The pictures on the walls are modern pieces, which I don't usually care for, but they fit here.

"Would you like some champagne?"

"Yes." I see the champagne stand now, sitting next to the chairs. Deftly he takes off the foil and wire, popping the cork which causes me to squeal with delight. The bubbly liquid froths up the fluted glass as I take mine from him.

"To you twenty-first birthday." We clink glasses and take a sip.

"This is really good."

"Just a little bit, for now, I don't want your senses dulled."

"What do you have planned?" My lower abdomen is fluttering with anticipation.

"To give you pleasure." Roy rests his hands on the back of a chair. His demeanor becomes more intense, the word dominant pops into my head. "Take off your dress." His eyes are burning as they roam over my flesh.

"What if I don't feel comfortable with that?" My mind is screaming at me, telling me to take off my clothes this instant.

Roy's attention is focused on my breasts. He takes his time traveling up until his eyes meet mine. His expression is kind, patience, and relaxed. "Then we'll sit and talk by the fire, finish the champagne, and go to bed, to sleep only."

No, _no_, _no_, my body is yelling at me.

"You're in control," he continues. "Nothing will happen unless you want it to." His eyes soften. "Having you here is the only gift I need."

I tip the champagne glass up, enjoying the bubbly liquid flowing down my throat. What is it between us? Why do I feel so drawn to him, and he me?

When I've drained the glass, I hand it to Roy, and he places it on the side table. "You want me to do it here?" I ask.

"Yes," his voice is husky. "I like the way the firelight glows against your skin."

I bite me lip and reach around and undo the button at the back of my neck holding the halter part of the dress up.

"Let the straps fall."

I have to fight not to hold them against my breasts, but do as I'm told.

"Did you enjoy your shower this morning?" he asks.

I know exactly what he's insinuating and nod.

"Good. I want you to learn about your body." He walks around me stopping directly behind and flattens his hand against my back. A gasp escapes my lips as his touch sends what feels like an electric current through my body.

"If anything makes you feel uncomfortable or hurts just say stop. Do you understand?" I nod. "Repeat what I said."

"If I don't like something I'm to tell you to stop."

"If you want me to do something, you will tell me. There is no judgment here. No right. No wrong."

"I'll tell you."

"Good." Roy slides his hands around my belly and up to my breasts, taking each one in hand and rolling my nipples between his fingers. "Are they sore?"

"Yes," I whisper and let my head fall back against his chest.

"Do you like the soreness?"

Oh God I love it. "Yes."

His body is pressed against my back, his lips place small kisses along my shoulders, while his fingers are squeezing, rolling, and tugging my nipples. It feels like liquid lava is moving through my body.

"You like this, don't you, the slight pain?"

His fingers squeeze my nipples harder and my body stiffens for the briefest of moments and then melts against him.

"Go get your gift, it's on the table."

I lift my head enough to spy the box and look down to watch his hands leave my breasts. Which now feel alive and swollen, my skin tight, my nipples hard and red, shamefully begging for his fingers to enwrap them again.

"Go on," he chuckles and slaps my behind gently.

Almost like a sleepwalker, I slowly take the few steps to the table and retrieve my gift. When I turn with the box in hand he's taken off his shirt. Scars. I hadn't noticed them before, on his shoulder and one wrapped around his stomach. The apex of my thighs heat and clench, as my eyes take in the beauty of his male physique.

"Let's get this dress off, shall we." His fingers leave a trail of heat as he unzips my dress and his fingers spread out to soothe it over my hips until the fabric pools at my feet. I step out of it, a little self-conscious, a lot aroused. "And we don't need these." He slips his fingers under my panties, sliding them down my legs causing me to shiver as he brushes past my sensitive areas. "You are a beautiful woman." He turns me around to face him.

I do feel beautiful and wanton and can't help but to stare at his lips wishing they were on my skin. "Your body is very responsive. Especially these." He twists my nipples again causing me to moan like a talking doll that speaks when her string is pulled. "I'd like them swollen with milk for me." It's devilish Roy who smiles at me. "Miss Carlisle your expression is priceless. Can you imagine how wonderful that would feel?" He leans down and takes my breast in his mouth.

"Ohhh," I can imagine, and right now it sounds like an excellent idea.

My hands automatically thread through his hair as he lavishes one and then the other breast with his mouth and tongue. I lean into him, my knees weak, and my thighs shaking.

Roy lifts his head up and places his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "So responsive, Miss Carlisle."

Muscles deep inside my body tighten with the gaze he bestows upon me. Right here, right now, is my first inkling of what it is to be desired by another and what a powerful drug that feeling can be.

"Hand me the box."

I obey and force deep breathes into my lungs. How can he change his tone such that my body instinctively moves to obey him without my mind engaging?

"This." He holds one up. "Is a nipple clamp, an extremely _mild_ one."

The haze of desire lifts and suddenly I'm hyper aware of what he's holding.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"Not a whit," I reply, only partially joking.

"Don't be afraid. Just try it." He wiggles his fingers at me. "I need these for other things."

No longer a complete innocent, I know what _other things_ he's talking about and my lower belly aches with want.

Taking my hand he leads me to the bed. "Crawl up and lay on your back."

I do as I'm told, closing my eyes, waiting. I can hear him taking off his pants. The sound of Velcro makes me rise up on my forearms to see him putting the gun holstered from around his ankle on the table. With the nipple clamps in his mouth he crawls up on the bed and looms over me.

"Here," he takes one from his mouth and gives it to me.

Does he mean for me to put them on? Before I can say anything he is twisting my nipple between his fingers and the sensation makes me fall back, luxuriating in the warmth that flows through my body. He's twisting and pulling, twisting and pulling, over and over again, each time a little harder until I feel like my whole world is between his fingers. The coolness of the clamp bites down and imprisons my sore nipple; an involuntary cry escapes my lips.

"Breathe, sweet baby, breathe." His lips find mine and kiss me gently. When he lifts up to look down at me I realize our hips are wed, and but for the cloth of his pants, his manhood is all put pressed against my virginal opening. Roy's hair is disheveled and his eyes lustful. He uses his finger and brushes over the nipple clamp. "How does it feel?"

I don't know where the words come from but they fall out of my mouth. "Like exquisite pain."

His face lights with a devilish smile. "Do you want me to take it off?"

"No, no," I'm rolling my head from side-to-side "Please the other one."

His laugh is deep and he repeats the same treatment with the other nipple. This time I'm more prepared for the clamp and arch my back up to accept it. "Yes, so lovely." He gently tugs on each of the balls hanging from the clamps and I cry out. "You know what I've been remiss in giving you for your birthday?"

It's hard to focus on what he's saying as my body is a riot of sensation and need. All I can think of is that I want his hand between my legs. I take it and pull it down my stomach until his fingers move through my slickness.

"So wet for me, so greedy, but not yet."

I groan.

"You, sweet Ava, are in need of a birthday spanking."

"What?" He's rolled off me and I sit up, the clamps biting hard as gravity pulls them down. "Argh," I cry out.

"Are they too much?" His brow creases, and he moves to release them.

"No, no," I shake my head. "I'm not sure about the other thing."

I expect him to give me a death glare or something close to that, but instead he smiles and I feel all my resistances dissolve. "You are in control. If you don't enjoy it then tell me to stop."

I nod not trusting my voice.

"Come, lie on my legs." He helps to position me so my hips are centered over his legs and my torso is on the bed with my face towards him. "Are you comfortable?" He brushes my hair away from my eyes.

I nod, biting my lip. The clamps are becoming painful with my nipples pressed into the bed, but I'm not ready to take them off yet. "You promise to stop?"

"Yes, I promise. Remember this is for pleasure."

Knowing that I can control the duration eases my tension.

"First you need some oil." He reaches over to the bedside table and opens the top drawer pulling out a bottle and flips the cap and squeezes a cool liquid over my skin. I inhale, it smells exotic and spicy. With one hand he presses my chest harder into the bed. My nipples are on fire. With the other he rubs the oil over my ass. It feels hot and prickly, almost itchy. Some of the oil goes between my legs and I lift up wanting him to rub there. "I know what you want, sweet baby, and you'll get it, soon."

I moan wanting it now, needing it now.

The first smack shocks me and I yelp but the sting is quickly replaced with a deep soothing feeling of content as his large warm hand massages the area. The next smack is more expected and I'm sighing when he rubs the sting away. He repeats, smack and rub, smack and rub, until I loose count and my ass is aflame and lifting up in anticipating. "So responsive." He sighs and stops for a long moment.

"Please don't stop, please." Who have I become that I want to be spanked? It's not something I can explain, but the feeling of connection is overwhelming. At this moment I feel more loved than I've ever felt before. "Roy, please make love to me."

He growls.

"I need you!" I'll die if he doesn't continue. My body is primed and needs release, now.

His hand gently moves my legs apart.

"Roy, please, please." I try and rub myself against his leg. "You're killing me."

"Sweet baby, do you want my fingers inside you?"

"Yes, _yes_, anything please, I'm dying."

"Remember to tell me to stop if you need to."

All I can do is whimper with longing.

His fingers start making circles between my thighs like the night before and I lift my ass up to him. "Yes," I cry out.

I feel his finger slide inside me, deep inside me. "God Ava, you're too tight, too tight." His voice sounds tortured. He's slowly moving his finger inside me touching on areas I didn't know existed. "Remember to tell me to stop."

Suddenly I'm stretched to the point of discomfort and I know he's inserted another finger. I feel owned, completely owned by him and lift my hips up to his hand and then a feel pressure on my other opening. "Roy?" I cry out unsure.

"Relax, pretty baby, just feel it."

The combination of sensations is too much. My breasts ache, I'm sore from the spanking; his fingers probe and massage pleasure centers deep inside me. I tense, unable to breathe and then in a flash I explode, screaming out his name, crying and writhing against him, unable to control my body, only knowing that I was made for him, just for him.

When it subsides I'm too weak to move, to care that I'm laying over his legs, open and vulnerable to him. Right now I'm relaxed, at peace, and don't want to wake from what feels like a beautiful dream. I'm vaguely aware of Roy gently lifting me and placing me on my back. His fingers remove the clamps and his tongue soothes away the ache. I'm barely able to lift my hand and play with his hair.

"Just rest, sweet baby, rest."

I feel the bed rise as he gets up and then he's back with a warm cloth, rolling me to the side and cleaning off the oil. He slips in next to me, tucking my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. Finally, exhaustion takes me and I fall into a deep sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I'm pulled from the depths of my dreams. Reluctantly, I let go of the gossamer tendrils that tie me to my imaginings and accept the weight of wakefulness. Thoughts filter in, and a sense of cold dread nestles in the pit of my stomach. I turn my head. I am alone. Where is Roy?

A return to sleep is futile. Roy's shirt is draped over a chair. Quickstepping, uncomfortable with my nakedness, I hurriedly pull the fabric around me, inhaling his scent and button it all the way down to where it falls below my knees.

The house is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner. My feet sink into the plush carpet as I walk down the hall towards the living room.

Moonlight is filtering through the windows putting him in silhouette as he looks out into the gardens. He hears me. I know because his head turns just slightly in my direction.

"You should be in bed," he says.

He's a stranger to me. Should I leave? Go to him? I facilitate through the many options.

Finally, he turns. "How young you look," he says. "I didn't mean to wake you."

It's controlled Roy and my heart sinks. I walk the short distance to him and see a tumbler of Scotch, maybe, in his hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't sleep much."

"It's important to get enough sleep." Did I just say that? How stupid.

He lifts his eyebrow, but doesn't respond.

Something is definitely wrong, but what? Is it me? Does he regret bringing me to his home? What we shared? My thoughts are spiraling and none of them good.

"You should go back to bed."

"I won't sleep without you."

"Ava." He takes a sip of his drink, and places the glass on the table. "I'm selfish to keep you." He tenderly cups my face in his hands and places a small kiss on my forehead.

I don't understand him, and don't know what to say. I cover his hand with mine and turn my head to kiss his palm. "Thank you for making my birthday so special." My eyes well up with tears again. I wish I could convey how grateful I am to have him in my life. "Let me give you pleasure." I use his words hoping they're the right ones, as I desperately want to wipe the haunted look from his face, his eyes.

His thumb rakes across my lower lip. "I've experienced everything a woman's body has to give." Roy tilts his head to the side. "Except their innocence."

Is that what he's worried about? "I want to make love with you. I want you to be my first."

"I should release you before this goes any further."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Ava, I'm not the right man for you. You're too young, too inexperienced." His jaw clenches.

"No! How can you say that after what we just did?" My heart is racing. "Was I horrible, is that it? You don't want me. Is that why you didn't…" I just can't say it and stumble back from him.

For a moment I see sweet Roy in his eyes and then they harden and become cold as flint. "You are perfect. More than I ever imagined possible. You make me wish I were a different man."

"I don't want a different man. I want you." I lean against the sofa, thankful for the support.

"And I will have to answer for that one day." Roy picks up his glass and drains it.

"I don't understand."

"I know," he says, and walks over and curls me into his embrace. "I know. Let's get you back to bed."

Planting my feet, I refuse to be guided by him. He stops and looks down at me. "I'm not a child."

"I'm well aware of that. Come," he urges.

Unable to hold my position, I walk with him to the bedroom. He pulls the sheet back, sits down on the bed, and pats the space next to him.

I sink down. The sheets still warm from my body.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"I don't understand you…."

"No, I'm sure you don't." The warmth of his hand covers my knee.

"But I do trust you. If that makes any sense."

"You asked what was wrong." He waits until I meet his eyes. "A phone call woke me up."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Well." He grins. "It's daytime for the caller. My work…well, let's just say I can't talk about it." He pats my knee. "Even with you."

"So that's why you're so sad? I thought it was…"

"You?"

I nod.

"No, Ava, never you."

"How can I comfort you?" I need to do something, anything.

"Lay with me."

He cradles my back against his chest. "Go to sleep."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Good morning, Miss Carlisle." Mrs. Green smiles and pours me a cup of coffee and remembers that I like it with a of light brown sugar. "Would you like an omelet or I could whip up some pancakes?"

I thought Roy would be here and look around the room, feeling silly wearing his shirt. "Has Mr. Blackwood had breakfast?"

Her smile falters. "Mr. Blackwood had his breakfast early this morning, before he left."

Left, early? It's only 8:30 now, and he didn't get much sleep, if any. "Did he go into the office?" I'm working very hard to seem nonchalant about my questions but I'm starting to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"I'm sorry I thought Mr. Blackwood told you."

"Miss Carlisle," Luther walks into the room. "I'll take some coffee, black, Mrs. Green."

"Of course, Mr. Quint." Mrs. Green looks relieved and quickly pours and hands a steaming mug to Luther. "Would you like the pancakes Miss?"

"Nothing, thank you. I might have some toast, but I can get that later." I slide down onto a chair with my cup of coffee between my hands letting the steam rise and warm my face.

"I apologize," Luther sits across from me. "I got called away for a moment. Mr. Blackwood wanted me to explain his departure to you."

"Why didn't he tell me?" I hate how my voice sounds, small and needy.

"This trip was planned for next week, but events." He shrugged his shoulders. "He was needed."

"Where?"

Luther sighs and stares at the ceiling. "Kabul."

My mind spins trying to connect Kabul to a place. "Afghanistan?"

"Yes, Blackwood Security provides private security forces for the protection of the US interests there."

I had no idea his work took him to war zones. Perhaps Luther reads my mind, because he immediately adds.

"Mr. Blackwood is quite capable. I wouldn't worry about his personal safety."

Am I that transparent? My thoughts go back to his words last night. Did he do this intentionally? Disappear instead of tell me he didn't want a relationship? "Will he call? Can I call him? How long will he be gone?"

"I will coordinate your security detail. He mentioned you'd like to do some shopping." Luther smiles, but I don't think shopping is his thing. "And he's asked for you to assist with the analysis of your aunt's files."

"You didn't answer my questions."

Luther's right eye twitches slightly. "Kabul is over nine hours ahead of us. I'm sure he will call when he can. He will be in country for three days, which means with the time difference and air travel he should be back in five."

Five days. I look down at my coffee devastated that he didn't tell me about this. "I'm going home." I push back from the table and walk to the guest room.

"Miss Carlisle, my orders are that you stay here."

"Am I a prisoner?" I look over my shoulder to see Luther shake his head. "Then I'm going home. I won't stay here without Roy."

I all but run into the bedroom and slam the door, leaning against it to catch my breath. I hold the tears back until I'm in the shower where I let go and sob.

Was I wrong about Roy? No, I know he feels something for me. He couldn't have faked it. And yet, he deserted me. Was that why he was sad last night? Or thought he wasn't the man for me? I have to go, get home, and think. As quick as I can, I shower and dry off, toweling my hair, braiding and wrapping it up to keep it off my neck. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see clothes hanging in the closet. I guess Mrs. Green bought these too. I have to remember to thank her and slip on a pair of jeans, a white polo shirt, and a pair of pink flip flops.

When I open the door, Luther is standing there, looking stoic.

"I'll drive the Volvo home." I'm proud of how controlled I sound. "I'd like you to arrange for it to be picked up because I won't need it anymore."

"Miss Carlisle this is not authorized. Mr. Blackwood gave very strict orders regarding you and your safety."

I spin around full of righteous indignation. "If Mr. Blackwood was so concerned then he should have told me about his trip, and not left me hanging here without any information, especially not after last night." I slap my hand over my mouth.

Luther blanches and looks down at the carpet. "He could tell no one about this trip. For security reasons," he adds.

"He told you." I snap.

"I'm cleared for such information."

"How convenient." I walk back to the kitchen, find my purse, pull out the keys and go directly to the garage. I hear Luther behind me talking on his cell phone mobilizing the security detail.

"Miss."

I stop, but don't turn to face him.

"He's a good man."

I know Luther is right, but I'm a tangle of conflicting emotions and right now I just don't have the wherewithal to stop and sort them out. Without saying a word I resume walking.

"I'll ride with you." Luther says.

"No you will not," I yell back as I open the door and slip behind the wheel. Halfway down the driveway I see a black SUV moving fast to catch up with me.

"God Dammit Roy," I yell and fight back the tears. "Not now," I tell myself. "Wait until you get home."

The drive seems to take forever. When I pass the Marshall exit, where we stopped to eat, the tears come again. Finally, I pull in behind my old car and it's the best looking car I've ever seen, because it's mine.

Inside the house there is no sign of Maxine, thank god. Immediately, I call Cathy and inform her that I'll be taking back my shifts. She's surprised, but doesn't ask any questions. And then I fall apart and curl up on the couch.

When the sun is peeking along the horizon like a toddler reluctant to go to bed I drag myself to the kitchen. The doorbell rings. Through the side pane I see Luther looming in front of the door. Why won't he leave me alone? I crack it open.

He thrusts his cell phone towards me. "Mr. Blackwood is on the line for you."

My heart breaks and I want to snatch the phone from him, but I don't. I won't be treated like…one of his subs. I find the resolve to stand up tall to Luther. "Tell him I don't want to talk with him. If he couldn't be bothered to tell me beforehand then I don't need to hear his excuses now."

Luther puts the phone to his ear. "Yes sir."

Roy must have heard what I said. "And tell him I don't need a security detail and that I'm going back to work tomorrow." I slam the door on Luther for the second time today. I'll feel guilty about that later.

I strip the bed, put on fresh sheets, replace the bathroom towels with new ones, and scrub the tub. When I'm done with that I start in on the rest of the house. When I'm upset, I clean. I'm scrubbing the oven with Easy Off when I hear ringing. I back out of the open oven. It's not my house phone. It's coming from the living room. I walk in with my rubber gloves still on and held out from my body. The ringing is coming from my purse. It's the cell phone Roy gave me. Now that my anger is subsiding, I desperately want to hear his voice.

"No, no you don't Ava." I shake my head and go back to cleaning the oven.

It's almost midnight by the time I'm done. My stomach is rumbling, but I don't think I'd be able to keep food down. I pour a glass of wine and take it outside and sit on the back steps. Just at the edge of my property is one of Roy's guards. Protecting me against the stalker. I'd forgotten about him. Maybe he saw the police and the security and decided I wasn't worth it. I sure hope so.

I lean back against the porch railing and watch a cardinal on the bird feeder. Aunt Jean and I used to sit on the swing and talk while watching the birds, and a few squirrels, that came up to feed. I miss my Aunt so much. Throughout her illness I never let myself believe that she would die, and though I should have been, I was not prepared for when she passed. Mourning a loved one is a lonely pursuit for the living, one that must be traveled alone. People were kind and said nice things, but in the end, my aunt was gone and no one could make that right. It was like a giant trap door had opened up and engulfed her. Like she'd never been and was only a memory.

"Snap out of it." I force my mind to think of other things, like getting another bag of bird seed. Maybe I'll do that after work tomorrow.

Unbidden and unwelcome, my body is betraying me. Each time my clothing brushes past areas that are sore and sensitive from Roy's hands, I have to resist calling him. Don't think of it, just forget it, but I know that's impossible. He's awakened my body and my heart and left me with only memories. Ridiculous, I shake my head and drain the rest of the wine. I stand up feeling a little light headed and go back into the kitchen and pour another full glass.

I'm halfway done with my shopping list for tomorrow when my house phone rings. I don't have caller ID so I can't know if this is Roy or not. It could be Cathy from work or it could be Mrs. Chavez from next door needing something. She's older and I watch out for her and run errands for her.

"You can't hide." I tell myself, standing, realizing I've had way too much alcohol and no food. I walk over and stare at the old wall phone, the faded yellow plastic, the handset attached to a long cord, long enough that I could walk into the living room if I want.

"Hello," I tentatively answer.

"Jesus, I'm losing my mind with worry. Are you alright?" Roy yells and I have to move the handset away from my ear.

"Well hello to you too, Mr. Blackwood." My speech is a little slurred. My traitor's body is responding to his voice.

"Ava what's wrong?"

I'm giggling, not sure why, but everything seems suddenly funny. "Nothing's wrong except you left me alone in your house without saying goodbye."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yes I have. I'm twenty-one." I'm giggling again. In the background I can hear voices and movements.

"Don't do anything stupid. Let them protect you while I'm away. When I get back we'll clear this up between us." It's Control Freak Roy barking orders. "You aren't to go back to work. Do you understand?"

"Mr. Blackwood."My head is spinning. "I'm going to bed." I slur out.

"Ava! Ava!" Roy is yelling.

I slip the handset back into its cradle and hold onto the cabinet. I've had a hard day. I'm halfway to my bedroom when I hear a knock on the door. Seriously, who could that be? I see through the side panels that it's Luther, of course, Mr. Control Freak's right hand man. I'm giggling again.

"What?" I swing open the door and sway back.

"Miss, do you need anything?"

"Nope." I pop the p and smile up at him.

He turns his head to the side, appraising me. I'm wondering if he has children, a wife, a puppy?

"Perhaps I should take a seat in your living room, just in case you need anything."

"No," I shake my head and lose my balance for a moment. Luther reaches out to steady me, but I manage to sidestep his hand. "I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight." I smile and close the door.

I crawl into bed trying to forget the last time I was here, with Roy. Every time I close my eyes I feel his hands on me. My traitorous body has no pride.


End file.
